YELLOW PRESENTA: LO SPECIALE DI HALLOWEEN

Era Halloween. Tutti nel bagno erano eccitati all'idea. Yellow non aveva idea di cosa si festeggiasse ad Halloween. Aveva avuto qualche difficoltà a capire che roba fosse il Natale, non sarebbe stato semplice spiegargli cosa festeggiavano ad Halloween. Orange, il fratellino intraprendente di Yellow, e la papera Centurione (passavano molto tempo insieme dal momento che condividevano la passione per le situazioni ad alto rischio) erano riusciti a nascondere sotto un asciugamano un dispositivo – un iquack o qualcosa del genere – ed adesso stavano cercando di accenderlo per vedere un film di Halloween.

Si trattava di un film dell’orrore, il pubblico poteva considerarsi avvisato.

Yellow chiese, a nessuno in particolare, informazioni sulla festività. Orange li azzittì tutti, guardò Yellow dritto negli occhi ed assentì “Questa è la storia, fratello, Halloween è la festa delle zucche. Ti ricordi il giorno del tacchino? È la stessa cosa ma con le zucche.” Chanel sbuffò “Sei uno sciocchino, petite mandarine, si tratta di moda. È un giorno dedicato a vestirsi come fa la gente strana così, per un giorno, non si sentono differenti. Gli si danno anche dei dolcetti così sanno che anche se non si sanno vestire, le persone gli vogliono bene lo stesso.” Ambedue le spiegazioni avevano senso, pensò Yellow mentre i due  iniziarono a bisticciare su chi avesse ragione.

“Ho fatto, mettetevi a sedere.” Disse la papera Centurione. Tutti quanti si sedettero silenziosamente sul piano della lavatrice e iniziarono a guardare il film “Il primo Halloween di Efelante”. Il film trattava di un elefante ed un  piccolo di canguro che volevano rimpiazzare le caramelle per Halloween che avevano mangiato, strani fantasmi e persone (o quello che erano) trasformate in zucche. Trasformati alla bibidi bobidi boo. Alla fine, si trattava di un fraintendimento e non c’erano né fantasmi né mostri che trasformavano la gente in nessuna cosa, comunque il film aveva spaventato a morte la nostra paperella di plastica. Era quasi il tramonto e le papere gettavano lunghe ombre sui muri del bagno.  Yellow avrebbe potuto giurare che le ombre si muovessero da sole. Scappò a nascondersi. Si andò a nascondere sotto l’asciugamano usato per nascondere il tablet. Si vedeva solo la coda e stava tremando. L’immagine dello  strano orso con la maglietta rossa ed il sorriso diabolico lo perseguitava. Gli amici terrorizzati dall’ombra della madre del piccolo Canguro e la foresta buia, era pauroso ma poteva affrontarlo, quell’orso gigantesco con la maglietta rossa ed il sorriso diabolico decisamente no.

Orange tentò di spiegare al fratello che si trattava di un film e non aveva niente a che fare con la realtà. Non esisteva una cosa come gli orsi o peggio degli orsi che indossassero magliette rosse nel mondo reale, l’eventualità non sussisteva.

Nel frattempo, nell'armadietto, un vecchio dispenser a forma di Winnie the Pooh fu svegliato dall'audio del suo film di Halloween.  Dal momento che voleva vederlo anche lui, bussò alla porta dell’armadietto in cerca di aiuto per uscire di lì. Tutte le paperelle sulla lavatrice potevano sentire solamente strani suoni confusi e quando alzarono lo sguardo verso l’armadietto, videro l’anta muoversi da sola. Violet (si presupponeva fosse quella intelligente) urlò, la papera Centurione si infilò l’elmo, Shakespeare sobbalzò, Scott si gettò davanti alla Regina e Yellow, oh beh, lui rimase impalato lì dov'era. Orange e Chanel si guardarono con gli occhi inverosimilmente spalancati. “Come era la storia di Halloween?”  chiese Yellow a tutti e due, a nessuno in particolare. Non riusciva proprio a muoversi al momento, figurarsi spostare lo sguardo dall'armadietto. Dopo un pochino l’anta si aprì e ed un grande dispenser a forma di Winnie the Pooh ne venne fuori con un enorme sorriso stampato sul viso. Tipo il sorriso del Joker di Batman. Inquietante, no?  Yellow si girò alla propria sinistra e vide che Orange  lo guardava. Si abbracciarono, strillarono e caddero dal bordo della lavatrice. Yellow, tanto per cambiare, era ancora una volta sul pavimento ma stavolta la caduta era stata tutto fuorché accidentale. Erano saltati volontariamente per allontanarsi dall'orso mostruoso e non avevano nessuna intenzione di risalire. Non nell'immediato futuro, comunque sia.

Morale della favola, gli orsi esistono ed indossano magliette rosse.   

YELLOW PRESENTS: THE HALLOWEEN SPECIAL

It was Halloween. Everyone in the bathroom was excited about it. 

Yellow didn’t know what this festivity was. He has had a hard time understanding what Christmas was so it wasn’t going to be an easy task  explaining him what they celebrated on Halloween. Orange duck, Yellow’s very enterprising brother, and Centurion (they hang out quite often since they shared a passion for high risk situations) had managed to hide under a towel a devise - an iquack they called it - and now they were trying to turn it on so to watch an Halloween movie.

It was an horror movie, audience discretion was advised.

Yellow asked, to no one in particular, about this festivity.  Orange shushed them all, looked Yellow in the eyes and nodded to himself. “Here’s the deal bro, Halloween is the festivity of the pumpkins. Do you remember the turkey day? It’s the same thing but with pumpkins.” Chanel scoffed “You are a silly boy, petite mandarine, it’s about fashion. It’s a day dedicated to dress like the strange people do so, for a day they won’t feel different. You also give them candies so they know that even though they don’t know how to dress, people still love them.” They both made sense, Yellow considered while they started bickering over who was right.

“I got it, take a seat.” Centurion duck said. They quietly sat on the washing machine’s top and started to watch the movie “Pooh's Heffalump Halloween Movie”. It was about an elephant and a little Kangaroo trying to replace the eaten candies, strange ghosts and people (or whatever) changed into pumpkins. Like bibidi bobidi boo changed. In the end, it was all a misunderstanding and there were no ghosts or monsters changing people into anything nevertheless, the movie had scared the hell out of our little rubber ducky friend. It was almost twilight and the ducks casted long shadows on the bathroom walls. Yellow could have sworn the shadows were moving by their own will. He ducked and covered. He actually crawled under the towel used to hide the tabled. Only his tail was there to be seen and it was trembling.  The strange bear with the red shirt and the diabolical smile hunted him. The pals terrified by the little Kangaroo’s mother shadow and the forest at night, it was scary but manageable, that big bear with that creepy voice though, it  was most definitely not.

Orange tried to explain to his bro that it was a movie and it wasn’t real. There was no such a thing as bears or bears wearing red shirts in the real word, not a chance.

Meantime, in the cabinet,  the very old Winnie the Pooh shaped dispenser woke up at the sound of his Halloween movie. He wanted to watch it to so he knocked at the cabinet’s door and called for help. All the ducks on the washing machine could hear were strange muffled sounds and when they looked up towards the cabinet, they saw the door moving by himself. Violet (she was supposed to be the smart one) screamed, Centurion duck put his helmet on, Shakespeare ducked away,  Scott threw himself in front of his Queen and Yellow, oh well, he froze were he stood. Orange and Chanel looked at each other with impossible wide eyes. “What was it about this so called Halloween?” Yellow asked to both of them, to neither of them. He couldn’t really move at the moment, let alone turn around his head from the cabinet.

After a while the door spread open and a big Winnie the Pooh dispenser come out with a huge smile painted on his face. Like the batman’s joker smile. Creepy much?

Yellow turned on his left to find Orange watching him. They grabbed one another, screamed and went off the cliff of the washing machine.

Yellow was again on the floor but this time the fall had been all but incidental.  They had actually jumped away from the monstrous bear and they had no intention to climb up. Not anytime soon anyway.

Bottom line, bears do exist and they wear red shirts. It was the unbearable thruth. 

EP.9 - THERE IS NO PLACE LIKE YELLOW'S HOME

Lately Chanel was really sad. During her previous accommodation, in the pink bedroom of her owner, she was used to chitty chat with her best friend Thèo. He was a French rubber ducky too. They had breakfast together every morning and he kissed her (head) goodnight every night before going back to his drawer. He was passionate about fashion, like every

French born duck, and had the cutest striped shirt. Thèo had a thing for coffee and his brown complexion was the perfect match for his brewed drink. Chanel really missed him. She didn’t talk about him much but she quite often mistaken the other ducks’ name and called them Thèo. Yellow wanted to somehow help her but he didn’t know how to. He went to Violet, she always came up with ideas and follow through,  Yellow usually missed the second part. She was thinking so hard Yellow could hear her brain working. Orange joined them, a blank stare plastered on his face when they asked him to think of something. He was a duck of action. He mimicked his sister in order to make fun of her but she gave him a big smile. Yellow and Orange exchanged a worried glance, that was very unusual of her. “You are a genius!” she said. “Am I?” replied Orange. “Is he?” asked our rubber friend Yellow. “Yeh….Hey! Bro…..”. Violet stopped them before it was too late. How could they be related to her, they were – both – so dumb. “May I tell you my plan or do you want to argue first?” They took their sweet time before answering. They wouldn’t have bothered fighting a little bit but she looked at them with dangerous eyes and they shushed. Meanwhile Violet took the self-tanning cream and the make-up palette and started painting Orange, Yellow ran away to summon up all the bathroom rubber ducks. By the end of the day they were all painted to resemble Thèo.

When Chanel saw them she thought it was a terrifying spectacle but she smiled because she knew they had done it out of love and because, for the first time since Yellow had opened her pink box, she felt like home. Yellow hugged her and said “You may have lost one Thèo but now you have plenty of Thèos!” She was going to thank him when it occurred to her that, by hugging her, he’d trashed her scarf. She was such a mess she actually cried. She could have killed him, she could have killed them all. Yellow tried to apologize. He begged but she was so angry she was almost red. Violet took the scarf and assured her they’d clean it up. There was no plural when it came to cleaning though. Yellow (who - God knows why - in the end was the only guilty one) spent the night in the bathtub washing the scarf.

Bottom line, there is be no place like home because it’s only at home that you can love and be mad at someone at the same time and Yellow loved and hated them all at the moment. 

THANK YOU FOR READING YELLOW'S STORIES

My dear readers, 
I hope you are still here after a week. As promised I'm back with my weekly rubber ducky related nonsense.
I posted the first story (ep. 7) and then I was so touched by my friends' interest and nice words that I got carried away and I wrote a second story. 
I had to translate the last two because a couple of friends, wich I care deeply, asked me to.  They have a few issue with English language (me too, but I keep bothering people asking them to check my nonsense).
I hope you' ve enjoyed the stories you choose to read, I had fun writing them all. 
Yellow our (I hope) rubber friend is in the bathroom and he' in good shape.
Thank you for reding it.

'till next time. 

Miei cari lettori, 
Spero che dopo una settimana siate ancora lì. Come promesso sono tornata con le mie stupidaggini sulle paperelle. 
Ho postato la prima storia (ep. 7) e sono stata così colpita dall'interesse e dalle  parole così carine dei miei amici che mi sono lasciata trasportare ed ho scritto una seconda storia.
Ho tradotto gli ultimi post perché un paio di amici, a cui tengo molto, me lo hanno chiesto visto che hanno qualche problemino con l'inglese (pure io, ma continuo a rompere le scatole alla gente perché correggano le mie stupidaggini).
Spero che le storie che avete deciso scelto di leggere vi siano piaciute, Io mi sono divertita a scriverle. 
Sto cercando di tradurre i capitoli precedenti nella mia lingua ma ho qualche problema con il 4to. Non credo che sia traducibile. 
Yellow, il nostro (spero) miglior amico gommoso é nel bagno e sta bene.
Grazie per aver letto le storie.
Alla prossima volta. 

EP.8 - YELLOW AND THE PLAY

One day Shakespeare duck came up with the funniest idea Yellow had ever heard, and he was used to having some quite amusing himself: a play! Beware, not to play, a play. Like a musical but without songs. He wanted to put on display one of his best comedies so to win Queen Elisabeth’s affection. Violet wanted it to be "Romeo and Juliet", she was such a romantic soul, Centurion duck insisted to rehersal "Giulio Cesare" he would have performed a fine Cesar, Scott the Scottish duck asked for Macbeth  while dispenser duck proposed "King Lear". Shakespeare was really flattered by the passion they showed towards his works but he decided "Othello" was the best choice, the duck - wasn’t it the duke? - of Venice was a logic choice. Meantime, in the corner of the bathtub Sphinx duck was pouting. He still didn't understand why they all had laughed at him when he had proposed "Aida" . It was a spectacular story and took place in Egypt, the most beautiful place on heart. He was so upset he decided not to audition for the leading role, their loss. Long story short, Othello was a moore when being dark skin wasn't a good thing (like being the only plain Yellow duck was ever going to be) but he was really good at what he was doing so he got promoted. Iago, quite the mischievous guy, was envious of him and when he discovered by chance Othello was secretly married, he plotted to make him think Desdemona, his pale and blond wife, was unfaithful to him with his own  second and dear friend Cassio. Audition started in no time. Yellow wanted desperately to play Cassio. He went on stage, meaning the washing machine's window, and gave the best performance of his life. Shakespeare was mesmerized. Violet and Chanel applauded savagely. Shakespeare hadn’t allowed the two of them to audition claiming that in the Elizabethan theater women were not permitted to be act. He surely was telling a lie but he'd been adamantine on that. In less than an hour the auditioning session ended and all the wanna-be-actors lined up in front of the poet duck. "And now the main roles: Othello will be played by Scott (of course it was, Scott was the Queen's favorite), Iago by Orange duck (one of Yellow's many bros), Cassius by ....... " Yellow hold his breath. He knew he'd been the best and, for once, it was the absolute truth. "Centurion duck..." Yellow's heart stooped. It wasn't the first time that week, he needed to have it checked. The sooner the better. He was so sure though…."and Yellow, my dear friend you really surprised me, you are born for this, You will play Desdemona." Yellow blinked than turned white and eventually simply fainted. He collapsed right into the washing machine. It was not that he didn't want to play a female role. Lady Macbeth, he wouldn't have even blinked, but Desdemona?!?! Really the most boring character in ...... forever. 'Cmon, couldn't it Desdemona have hold dear something big enough not to be stolen? Really! Bottom line, always buy paper tissues.

Un giorno la papera Shakespeare se ne uscì fuori con l’idea più bislacca che Yellow avesse mai sentito, e lui era avvezzo alle idee improbabili: una commedia. Attenzione: non fare la commedia, recitare una commedia.  Tipo un musical ma senza le canzoni. Aveva intenzione di mettere in mostra una delle sue opere migliori per guadagnare i favori della regina Elisabetta. Violet avrebbe voluto “Romeo e Giulietta”, era una papera di indole romantica, la papera Centurione insisteva perché si portasse in scena “Giulio Cesare”, lui sarebbe stato un magnifico Cesare, Scott, la papera scozzese, chiese di fare “Macbeth”mentre la papera dispenser propose “Re Lear”. Shakespeare era veramente lusingato dalla passione mostrata verso le sue opere ma decise che Otello era la scelta migliore, il papero (duck) – non era il duca (duke)? - di Venezia era la scelta più logica. Nel frattempo nell’angoletto della vasca, la papera Sfinge aveva messo il broncio. Non capiva perché tutti avessero riso di lui quando aveva proposto “l’Aida”. Era una storia meravigliosa ed era ambientata in Egitto, il posto più bello al mondo. Era talmente arrabbiato che decise di non partecipare ai provini. Ci avrebbero rimesso loro. Per farla breve, Otello era un moro in un tempo in cui avere la pelle scura non era una bella cosa (come se essere l’unica papera totalmente gialla del bagno lo fosse) ma era molto bravo in quello che faceva e fu promosso. Iago, tipetto perfido, era invidioso di lui e quando scoprì per puro caso che Otello si era sposato in segreto, complottò per fargli credere che Desdemona, la sua pallida nonché biondissima moglie, gli era infedele con Cassio suo secondo ed amico. Le audizioni iniziarono immediatamente. Yellow voleva disperatamente recitare il ruolo di Cassio. Salì sul palco, ovvero l’oblò della lavatrice, e recitò come mai prima di allora. Shakespeare era rapito. Violet e Chanel applaudirono selvaggiamente. Shakespeare non aveva permesso loro di partecipare alle audizioni asserendo che alle donne, all’epoca del teatro elisabettiano, non era concesso recitare. Di sicuro mentiva ma era stato irremovibile. Le audizioni terminarono in meno di un’ora ed i futuri attori si allinearono davanti al papero poeta. “E adesso i ruoli principali: Otello sarà portato in scena da Scott (certo che aveva scelto lui, era il preferito della regina), Iago da Orange (uno dei molti fratelli di Yellow), Cassio da…” Yellow trattenne il fiato. Sapeva di essere stato il migliore e, per una volta, era pure vero. “la papera Centurione…” il cuoricino di Yellow si fermò. Non era la prima volta quella settimana, doveva farsi vedere da un dottore. Il prima possibile. Ne era così sicuro…. “... Yellow, mio caro amico, mi hai davvero sorpreso, sei nato per questo. Tu porterai in scena Desdemona”. Yellow sbattè le palpebre quindi sbiancò ed infine svenne. Crollò dritto nella lavatrice . Non era che non volesse recitare un ruolo femminile. Se fosse stata lady Macbeth non avrebbe avuto problemi ma Desdemona!?! Il personaggio più noioso di……sempre.  E dai, ma Desdemona non poteva essere affezionata ad un oggetto abbastanza grande da non essere rubato? Davvero! Morale della favola, comprare sempre fazzoletti di carta.

EP.7 - YELLOW AND THE SHORT-LIVED SCARF

Once upon a time Yellow had been in love. Time has passed since that terrible time but he was still hurt. Almost three hours and he couldn’t get to forget her. She’d been a Queen, nevertheless. Yellow was going to win a contest and by that a date with her majesty but he’d fell (someone else’s fault of course) and had lost his chance at her heart. After that day he had decided he’d have nothing to do with she-ducks in the future. So, since love matters were now out of business for good, he decided to go back to his original plan: became the most unique duck of his bathroom. It wasn’t an easy task though. Yellow’s owner was a ducky collector and (quite too often) her friends brought to Yellow’s home “special” ducks from all over the word. Yellow’s bathroom was crowded with the most impressive ducks and he, being the only plain yellow duck, was really sad. He had tried to make himself …. oh well, just not so common but he had failed, badly. Yellow wasn’t used to make thing halfway. Maybe he was the only plain yellow duck but all the bathroom ducks thought he was one of a kind – luckily. They loved him, because even though he was annoying beyond words and couldn’t stop talking about the stupidest things they knew he cared about them in his annoying (yeah, I know I have already used this word but, believe me, the ducky is annoying) way. One raining day (actually it was the evening of the bumping contest but, in his defense, at the very least it was actually raining) Yellow was looking around and all he could see was his  collectibles friends surrounding him and a pink package topped by an enormous pink ribbon nearby the washbasin.  He rallied his bros and together they opened the box. He took them time but, since  it wasn’t bathing time yet, they had lots of spare time. Inside the box, wrapped in two layer of pink paper there was - go figure – another rubber duck. Do I have to say the duck was pink? Well, she was a (reaaaaaally) pink, like cotton candy pink, and she’d happened to be the most exasperating toy Yellow had ever known. And, let me say, coming from our little annoying (see annoying again) pal, it was something. She’d been created by a famous designer to publicize his perfumes for babies and came from an atelier in Paris (of all the cities). She had a fake French accent (fake for sure) and knew everything about fashion. She wasn’t brand new, she’d been bought by a fashion blogger in Paris two years before and had lived in her bedroom (no less) ever since. As she told Violet duck, the smartest among Yellow’s siss, her previous owner had reluctantly decided to give her up since she was quite the rare item (wasn’t she). Until today she’d lived on a dark-pink shelf between expensive perfumes. “It goes without saying that pretty things must stay among pretty things” she had said petulantly at one point. The pink duck fixed up her snow white earflaps and a the matching scarf – she was from the winter collection -  and Yellow with a pang in the rubber heart, realized that they were actual accessorizes, not topcoats but actual accessories. Chanel, like the stuff on tv but with two Ns, this was the name on her box, couldn’t stop talking about herself and she was saying practically to everyone she could have made them really glamorous with a simple “touch”, whatever the heck this touch was. When our little ducky understood what touch meant, the smartest idea hit him. It was so clear on his face had had an idea that, looking at his bros and sisters' glances towards him, he thought an actual bulb must have appeared just above his head. The pink duck smiled knowingly back at him. Could it be they had the same idea? She whispered something in his rubber ear and Yellow looked back at her with wide eyes. She was simply genius. They bounced together towards the toilet paper and started to roll it. Chanel took the paper and manufactured for him the finest scarf. "Aren't you the prettiest duck, mon petit?" She said staring at his figure. The blue flowers of the paper stuck out the blue of his eyes. That scarf suited him just perfectly. The other ducks were now looking at him. "I think we should add a hat, it's a must have this season (really? Yellow couldn’t tell). You have just the perfect head for a peaked cape. Oh" she sighed "I've waited all my life for a duck just like you! We are going to do great things together. I'll make you a fashion star". She was so excited she actually waged her tail. Violet and Pale blu ducks complimented Yellow. He was having the time of his life. One by one all the bathroom ducks reached his shelf to look at his scarf. Yellow was so happy! When the half-empty dispenser duck  (half-filled depending on you) joined them, the shelf tottered a bit but it was only when Centurion duck climbed that it collapsed down into the bathtub. The completely-filled-up-with-water bathtub. Yellow's scarf disintegrated itself in not time when it touched the hot soaped water. Yellow gasped. His scarf was forever gone. A tear showed on Yellow eyes but Chanel threw herself into the bathtub. She offered him her scarf and told him “this is just a loan, I want it back.” He pouted but took it.  The pink duck bursted in a laugh "Don't worry mon petite. We have plenty of toilet paper and time". Maybe she was right but Yellow, used to fall practically everywhere in the most unconceivable moments, could only see plenty of water in his immediate future. As every time, our little friend learned something from his journey. Here’s the bottom line, he had no scarf but he had found a friend and it was worth more than a piece of (toilet) paper. Here’s Yellow bottom line, he needed something waterproof. .

Accadde un tempo che Yellow si innamorò. Era passato oramai del tempo da quel momento infausto ma lui ne soffriva ancora. Quasi tre ore ed ancora non riusciva a dimenticarla. Lei era nientemeno che una regina. Yellow avrebbe vinto un torneo e quindi un appuntamento con sua maestà ma era caduto (colpa di qualcun altro, và da se) ed aveva perso l’occasione di conquistare il suo cuore. Dopo quel giorno, aveva deciso che non avrebbe mi più avuto a che fare con papere-femmina in futuro.  Quindi, dal momento che le questioni amorose non lo interessavano più, decise di tornare al suo piano originale: diventare la papera più originale del bagno. Non era cosa facile. La proprietaria di Yellow era una collezionista di paperelle e (anche troppo spesso) i suoi amici portavano a casa di Yellow papere “speciali” da tutti gli angoli del mondo. Il bagno di Yellow era pieno zeppo delle paperelle più sensazionali e lui, dal momento che era l’unica paperella completamente gialla, si sentiva molto triste. Lui aveva tentato di rendersi …… oh beh, non così banale ma aveva fallito miseramente. Yellow non faceva mai le cose a metà. Magari era l’unica paperella totalmente gialla ma tutte le papere del bagno pensavano che fosse unico – per fortuna.  Loro gli volevano bene perché, nonostante fosse rompiscatole più di quanto si possa esprimere a parole e non la smettesse di parlare di scemenze, sapevano che nel suo modo rompiscatole (si, lo so, ho usato di nuovo questa parola ma, credetemi, il paperetto è rompiscatole) si preoccupava di tutti loro. Un giorno di pioggia, (in realtà era il pomeriggio della gara di salti ma, a sua difesa, almeno pioveva per davvero) Yellow si guardava intorno e tutto quello che riusciva a vedere erano i suoi amici da collezione ed un pacchetto rosa con in cima un fiocco rosa enorme posto accanto al lavandino. Chiamò a raccolta i suoi fratelli ed insieme aprirono la scatola. Gli ci volle del tempo ma, visto che non era ancora il momento del bagnetto, avevano parecchio tempo da perdere. Dentro la scatola, avvolta in due fogli di carta rosa, c’era  - chi l’avrebbe detto mai – un’altra papera di plastica. C’è bisogno che vi dica che la papera era rosa? Beh, era (davveeeeeeeero) rosa, rosa come lo zucchero filato ed in aggiunta, si rivelò essere il giocattolo più seccante che Yellow avesse mai conosciuto. Certo che, datemi retta, detto dal nostro amico rompiscatole, non è poco. Lei era stata disegnata da un famoso designer per sponsorizzare una linea di profumi per bambini e proveniva da un atelier di Parigi (di tutte le città possibili). Aveva un accento francese (di sicuro fasullo) e sapeva tutto di moda. Non era nuova di fabbrica, era stata comprata da una fashion blogger a Parigi due anni prima e da allora aveva vissuto nella sua camera da letto (nientemeno). Come aveva raccontato a Violet, la più intelligente delle sorelle di Yellow, la sua precedente proprietaria l’aveva ceduta a malincuore dal momento che era un oggetto piuttosto raro (ma davvero?). Fino ad oggi aveva vissuto su una mensoletta rosa scuro tra profumi costosi. Va da sé che le cose belle devono stare tra le cose belle” aveva aggiunto con fare petulante ad un certo punto. La papera rosa si sistemò i paraorecchie bianchi come la neve e la sciarpa abbinata  - faceva parte delle linea invernale – e Yellow realizzo, con un colpo al cuoricino gommoso che erano accessori veri, non pitturati ma veri. Chanel, come i cosi della tv (channel = canale) ma con due N, questo era il nome scritto sulla scatola, non la smetteva di parlare di se stessa e diceva praticamente a tutti che avrebbe potuto renderli incantevoli con un “tocco”, qualunque cavolo di cosa fosse questo tocco. Quando la nostra paperella comprese cosa volesse dire tocco, gli venne un’idea spettacolare. Era talmente lampante sul suo viso il fatto che gli fosse venuta un’idea che, osservando gli sguardi dei suoi fratelli e sorelle, pensò che una lampadina si fosse materializzata sulla sua testa. La papera rosa gli sorrise di rimando con aria d’intesa. Che avessero avuto la stessa idea? Lei sussurro qualcosa nel suo orecchio di gomma e Yellow la fissò con gli occhi sbarrati. Semplicemente geniale. Saltellarono assieme verso il rotolo di carta igienica ed iniziarono a srotolarlo. Chanel prese la carta ed gli fece una sciarpa raffinata. “Non sei il papero più bello, mon petit?” Disse osservandolo. Il blu dei fiori della carta risaltava il blu dei suoi occhi. La sciarpa era fatta proprio per lui ed adesso anche le altre papere lo stavano guardando. “Credo che dovremmo aggiungere un cappello. È un must-have questa stagione (Per davvero? Yellow non ne aveva proprio idea). Hai la testa perfetta per un basco. Oh” sospirò “aspetto da tutta la vita un papero come te! Faremo grandi cose insieme. Ti rendererò una star della moda”. Era così emozionata che scodinzolò. Violet e Pale blu si complimentarono con Yellow.  Il paperetto si stava divertendo come mai prima di allora. Una alla volta tutte le papere del bagno si avvicendarono sullo scaffale per guardare la sciarpa. Yellow era così felice! Quando il dispenser mezzo vuoto (mezzo pieno, vedete voi) a forma di papera li raggiunse, la mensola traballò un pochino ma fu solo quando la papera Centurione salì che collassò nella vasca da bagno. La vasca da bagno completamente riempita d’acqua. La sciarpa di Yellow si disintegrò in brevissimo tempo non appena venne a contatto con l’acqua saponata. Yellow sussultò. La sua sciarpa non c’era più. Una lacrima si affacciò nei suoi occhioni ma Chanel si tuffò nella vasca. Gli porse la sua sciarpa e gli disse “è solo un prestito, la rivoglio indietro.” Lui mise il broncio ma la prese. La papera rosa scoppiò a ridere “Non ti preoccupare, mon petit. Abbiamo tanto tempo e tanta carta.” Magari aveva ragione ma Yellow, abituato a cadere ovunque nei momenti più impensati, vedeva solo acqua nel suo immediato futuro. Come sempre, il nostro amico aveva imparato una lezione dalla sua avventura. Morale della favola, non aveva più la sciarpa ma aveva trovato un’amica e questo valeva più di un pezzo di carta (igienica). Morale della favola secondo Yellow, gli serviva qualcosa resistente all’acqua.

AUTHOR’S NOTE

Hi everyone,

on his fist day on-line Yellow had more than 70 readers. I’m really excited.

I started this blog because I had fun writing Yellow’s stories and - since it seems someone is actually having fun at reading it - I’ll try to keep this a weekly appointment.

I wrote my first two stories for my English class and (hopefully) there shouldn’t be that many mistakes there but I cannot say the same for all the other stories. So, if you’d (and believe me you will) find mistakes/errors/typos/automatic corrector’s funny stuff, please let me know. I’m writing here and not just on my laptop because both I’m quite affectionate to my Yellow the rubber ducky friend and because  I really need to improve my English. Any suggestion….I’m here, just be nice, I know my grammar kinda sucks.One last thing, I’ve never thought someone would read my silly stories so, whoever you are, from the bottom of my heart, thank you. 

I really hope, in due time, you will like Yellow.

EP.6 - YELLOW AND THE BOUNCING CONTEST

A few days ago Yellow had been thrown on the floor by the (future) love of his life: Elisabeth Duck, Queen of England. She came from a gift shop where, apparently, she had been bought with a friend of hers: Scott, the Scottish duck.
All the bathroom ducks were in line to talk to her but her friend from the Heatrow shop was always by her side. They barely talked to each other, still he was there lingering just above her funny hair. Truth to be said, it was a wig and it had been very popolar during Elisabeth's reign but nowadays it was all but fashionable.
Yellow was already a lost cause, he looked at her with big dreamy eyes and had cought himself more than once counting the perfect feathers on her perfect wings on her perfect plastic everything. Scott studied everyone so very carefully and had never opened his sporran, not even once in two whole hours. Yellow was sure there was something very misterious in that little bag of him.

He was a strange duck, he pretended to be a fine warrior but he wore a skirt. Maybe it was better than the nothingness Yellow was used to dress but, sue him, Yellow preferred his nakedeness to wearing a skirt.
Anyhow, the guy wasn't much of a talker but was a superb bouncing player. One evening, after a huge glass of soaped water, he had even said he was one of Sir Conan Doyle’s ancestor, that he was from the Highlands and that there were movies and even chips named after him.

It was hardly the truth but who was Yellow to question Scott’s family history?

Yellow knew nothing about this movies or the chips but the Scottish duck was really charming when he told stories. A better storyteller then her duck majesty herself.
Strangely, Shakespeare and Scott didn't get along, the English poet didn't like the other duck's accent and independent spirit.
They were fighting all the time and the bathroom toys were bored by their incessant bickering. At some point the situation simply went south.
"What art thou saying?" Shakey bursted out "Where do you think you are? This is not your cold, beloved Scotland...."
"Ye mind yer business, ye ken nothing about my Country ...... ye sgòideasach lad".
 It was at this point that her majesty Elisabeth Duck, Queen of England, decided to intervene. She quietly looked at the two contenders but addressed the bathroom crowd: "My dearest friends, I think we should have a bouncing tounament so they may calm down themselves," she was now looking directly at the two fighting ducks "and we all can have fun" they fiercely nodded in her direction and she smiled in return "the winner will spent all day with me" she added. Yellow’s rubber heart stopped. A whole day to make her love him back! He was going to win the tounament.

Most of the rubber ducks got in line to sign in. Yellow looked at his rivals. They were bigger than he was but he was a born bouncer. In no time all the contestants lined up on the bath tube's edge. They only had three chances, three bumps each. The one who'd jumped the highest would be the winner. Centurion duck smiled at him from his right.

Centurion duck had no interest in dating the queen but he was a roman soldier, he couldn't let a challenge go unanswered. The Statue of Liberty duck on his left threw both her (feathery shaped) thumbs up.

All the contestant ducks were ready.

Sphynx duck joined the parade and the Statue of Liberty duck shifted a few inches on her right to make room for him. Also Yellow had to shift on his right.
"Three, two...." The countdown had started when, shifting to give room to his friend, Yellow slipped on a soaped spot and fell down into the bath tube. All the ducks began to bounce on the bath tube's edge while our friend was desperately bumping downstairs into the bathtube.
At one point he jumped so hight he almost reached the edge. Nobody saw him jumping that high though.

Bottom line, Centurion duck won the contest and Yellow had to wait for someone to come to his rescue.

Falling down while having fun, just another day in Yellow’s life.

EP.5 - YELLOW AND THE NOT SO HEINUS ROYAL DUCK

Our little friend was pissed beyond repair.

Yellow knew he was special but it seemed he was the only one knowing it.  The newest problem was the recently arrived royal duck.

Since she had arrived, all the bathroom ducks had been kinda wired. Unbelievable! She was a creepy lady with the heinous wig  he’d ever seen.

That morning Shakespeare had addressed all his duck pals in order to introduce the  - alleged - royal duck: Queen Elisabeth Duck, made in UK of course.  

Elisabeth, Lizzy to his friends (which ones? She hasn’t been there for two all minutes yet) came from a gift shop of the Heathrow airport. She’d lived in a dusty shelf for two long years before someone noticed her. One lucky day someone finally had bought her. The sales clerks had wrapped her in a piece of paper and thrown her in a plastic bag. She had been in the dark for weeks, maybe even months (she’d only been in the bag for two days but who’s counting and, anyway, ducks are not known for being accurate when it comes to counting time).

All the bathroom ducks were gasping, someone shed a tear. The sponge duck was on the verge of crying but she had been squeezed that morning and she had no water to weep out. The queen was a born storyteller, so very passionate she was. The long eyelashes fluttered to keep a sad tear. Her pale blue eyes were clouded by nostalgia for the family she had left behind in the shop and dust. Her long, kissable rubber beak slightly opened while she continued telling her story. Yellow forgot how to breath but acknowledged it only when a mouthful of air came painfully down his throat.

Maybe he’d got the flu?

She was still talking but he couldn’t listen a single word, he could only see her moving slow motion and – he was certain –  for a long minute she had looked right into his eyes. She needed a bit of solace and he – of course  - was the better qualified duck to do so.

He had almost reached her side when another duck popped out from the plastic bag of the airport. She abruptly turned on her left and hit Yellow where it hurts, meaning both his heart and his tail. Our friend lost his balance and fell straight to the ground, as always. 

Yellow wasn’t ready to call it a day though.

Eventually someone would have come into his bathroom to pick him up. He would have risen (literally) in no time to face his  enemy and win her heart. 

EP.4 - LORD LOVE A DUCK! IT'S YELLOW TIME ..... AGAIN

Lord love a duck![1] (Oh my Godness) It’s Yellow time….again

Yellow couldn’t stop but wondering why Ducks were considerate such un important instance by the human race. He was still a young rubber duck but in that little bathroom of him there was a dock-station and he happened to realize that the various speakers very often used the world “duck” to better explain themselves. Actually, he thought that the speaking thing was called duck-station instead of dock-station, but this is beyond the point.

Yellow wanted to have all his ducks in a row[2] (have the facts straight) before confront his siblings again, he was tired of being a sitting duck[3] (target) for his bros and sis’ jokes on his fanciful theory. So, since the duck test[4] proved to be like water off a duck's back[5] (without any apparent effect) and he wasn’t able to persuade his rubber relatives, Yellow quietly ducked out[6] (sneaked off) from his shelf and, in order to prove himself right, he went to consult Shakespeare-duck on the matter.

Our little rubber friend was being duck and dive[7]( naïve), as always, but the rubber poet seemed very glad to be of help, it would have been duck soup[8] (easy to accomplish) for him.

It was going to be all duck or no dinner[9] (all or nothing), either him or his bros were already dead ducks[10].

Shakespeare-duck ducked[11] (what else could have done being a duck and everything?) his head and listened intently to his little pal. He agreed with Yellow’s speculations and eventually, articulated a complex theory that brilliantly proved the point. The plain yellow rubber bath toy bounced all along the bath-tube’s edge.

He knew the guys in the bathroom, although they really loved Shakey, couldn’t really stand him blabbing for hours but he wasn’t really sure he wouldn’t have been able to repeat whatever the heck he’d  just said. However, Yellow was a very unlucky duck. When, finally, the great orator joined him in his path to the greatest  victory in all the bathroom history, something had to happen. An ugly old duck (a sponge one nevertheless) approached them. To Yellow disbelieve, they were now flirting and it was all but subtle. The sponge duck was saying something about Shakespeare-duck’s beard and he was gloating. Yellow urged Shakey to come but he dismissed him. Yellow wasn’t ready to throw the towel (= give up in defeat) and surrender, not to his siblings. He didn’t think he could have arranged something from the two hours explanation of his treacherous friend so he asked him to briefly sum it up for him. He owed him this, at the very least. Shakespeare-duck reluctantly complied. Yellow took to his lesson like a duck to water[12] (to learn how to do something very quickly), trying to memorize everything in the short time he had and went for his bros and sis.

They started to listen but it was like milking a duck[13] (totally impossible), though maybe – just maybe - the real issue was that his explanation made no sense at all. Soon, they started to laugh at his theory ….  again. Why on Heart couldn’t it have him waited for the expert one to speak instead of making a fool of himself again. He was so ashamed, he ducked and covered[14] (sought shelter) to avoid their mean jokes.

Yellow was now as happy as a duck in Arizona[15] (unhappy) but he had definitely learned his weekly lesson. Next time he’d needed Shakey’s help, he’d have to drown that heinous, mud duck[16] (ugly) …. oh well …. duck  in a bucket full of soaped water, to be used in the afterwards of course, Yellow was a duck-squeezer[17] (environmental)  duck guy after all and he didn’t want to make ducks and drakes[18] (waste) of good water.

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[1] Lord love a duck: an exclamation of surprise. Fig. My goodness!

[2] to get (or have) one's ducks in a row: North American informal, means either get (or have) one’s facts straight – or – get (or have) everything organized;

[3] sitting duck: fig. someone or something vulnerable to attack, physical or verbal. Alludes to a duck floating on the water, not suspecting that it is the object of a hunter or predator;

[4] duck test: a form of logical, intuitive reasoning to deduce the nature of an uncertain thing or situation, usually in the absence or in spite of concrete evidence. Adapted from the saying, "If it looks like a duck, swims like a duck, and quacks like a duck, then it's probably a duck”;

[5] like water off a duck's back: without any apparent effect. Ducks' feathers are waterproof. The preen (or, formally, the uropygial) gland at the base of the tail produces oil that spreads and covers the birds' outer coat so that water forms droplets on, but does not permeate, the feathers. That's why a critical remark that doesn't bother the person for whom it was intended rolls off like water off a duck's back.

[6] duck out: fig. to sneak out of some place;

[7] being duck and dive: mostly UK, one’s ingenuity to deal with or evade a situation (Oxford English Dictionary).

[8] duck soup: easy to accomplish. The first appearance of the phrase was in a 1902 newspaper cartoon that had nothing to do with ducks. Not then and not now has anybody been able to suggest a likely derivation;

[9] all duck or no dinner: of a situation, action, or effort resulting in either total success or total failure. All or nothing;

[10] dead duck: American and Australian informal, someone who is going to be punished severely for something they have done;

[11] to duck: to move (the head or body) quickly downwards or away;

[12] to take to something like a duck to water: to learn how to do something very quickly and to enjoy doing it.

[13] milk a duck: to do [or not do] something totally impossible.

[14] duck and cover: to seek shelter. Comes from raid drills practiced in the anticipation of nuclear attack in the elementary or secondary school during the 1950s and '60s. At the teacher's command “duck and cover,” pupils would stop whatever you were doing, drop down under the desk or against a wall, and assuming a fetal position, interlace the fingers of both hands behind your neck in a “covering” pose;

[15] happy as a duck in Arizona: unhappy. Ducks like water. Arizona is a largely arid state. Ergo, an unhappy person would be as unhappy as a teal in Tucson. Contrast that condition with someone who is as happy as a clam at high tide or as a flea in a doghouse;

[16] mud duck: ugly person;

[17] duck-squeezer: someone with strong concerns about the environment and conservation, especially rescuing oil-covered ducks;

[18] make ducks and drakes: squander or waste, comes from the a game in which a flat stone is bounced across the surface of water;