The Little Frog and Duck Boy In The I.E. Part 8

Yesterday, Alain's Zen postage finally worked it's mellow magic and the pictures arrived. Duck Boy will be obvious and the picture of the two derelicts features the Little Frog in the Virginia t-shirt and yours truly...not in the Virginia t-shirt. As you can see, the word "Little" is a vertical qualifier. If it were horizontal then it would not apply to either of us:

And now the story of how Daniel became Duck Boy….

If there is anyplace more relaxing to be than in a hot tub with an old friend, I don't know where it would be. The second night I was there Alain, Daniel and I adjourned to his hot tub. We thought about getting in the pool but that seemed like an awful lot of trouble. It was to be Daniel's lot that night to be regaled with songs and TV schtick from our creaky cob web cluttered brains. He was a sport about it despite his tender age. At one point for some reason we began to talk about our favorite Brit-coms from PBS. One of my favorites is a lesser known one called "The Vicar of Dibley". It featured Dawn French as a female Anglican priest in the small rural village of Dibley. As is so often the case with small towns Dibley had its traditions, one of which was an annual village talent show. Traditions imply repetition and such was the case in Dibley with the same talent acts being repeated year after year, one of which was a gentleman farmer of rather 'earthy' character and his famous farting duck. When it came his turn on the program he would stride from the wings to center stage. There he would stand erect at center stage with his performing duck tucked securely under his arm, business end pointed towards the audience. A hush of anticipation falls over the audience and when the silence suits his performer's sensitivities, he utters in a quiet but dignified voice. "Wait for it". No sooner are the words spoken but surrepticiosly he squeezes his performing partner with his arm and a subtle but unmistakable rattle bursts forth from the business end of the duck in question. Suitable impressed the dreadfully British audience applauds politely as they no doubt mentally compare this year's duck fart to last year's.

Daniel, having the finely honed taste and perception of any normal 8 year old boy found this to be hilarious and for the balance of my visit 'chez Duck Boy' the watchword, the shibboleth was "Wait for it!" Thus Daniel became Duck Boy although the affectionate moniker did not occur to me until I was on the way home. Indeed Alain, told me that one morning, a couple of days later, while he was still in bed and well before he was prepared to drag himself out of the bed he felt that soundless presence of a child near him just before he woke up. He cracked one eye open and was greeted with "Wait for it!"…Duck Boy had struck and we had created a monster of a memory for all three of us.

That is our story of Daniel's metamorphosis into Duck Boy and we are (WAIT FOR IT!!),  by God, stickin' to it...