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.

---

[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; 

EP.3 - YELLOW'S BIRTHDAY PARTY

After Yellow understood that the song “Yellow submarine” had not been written for him, he gave up with his project to became a submarine-pilot. It made no sense without a song or a boat named after him. He stayed put for a few days. His brothers and sisters knew his quietness meant there was cranky stuff rummaging in his rubber brain but they were just glad not to see him bumping all over the bathroom night and day. One day, finally,  he popped down. The rubber ducks on the shelf looked at him but he was oddly silent.

It was summer time and it was almost his birthday, well ….. his bros and siss' too.

Yellow was going to throw a birthday party.

The most beautiful party the bathroom had ever seen. Probably the only one a bathroom would ever see - all his siblings and friends thought.

It was an easy plan and surprisingly it worked out. For real. All the bathroom residents, ducks and no ducks, were invited. He filled up the bath-tube with water and a superb cinnamon scented bubble bath. They all were having fun surrounded by scented bubbles.

Centurion duck, the only one who could swim in all the bathroom, had to rescue some of his sponge friends (as soon as they got soaked, they started to sink) but this was the only jarring note in an - otherwise - perfect day.

By the end of the day, dispenser duck woke up from his nap. He’d been sleeping most of the day. In his defense, he’d been re-filled the day before and he felt a bit stuffed. He saw all of his friends in the bath-tube and decided to join them.

He momentarily forgot he was chock-full and plunged himself into the water.

He was so heavy he splashed violently against the surface of the water and sank. One of the waves of the tsunami discarded our poor Yellow away from the bath-tube, right in the corner between the wall and the washing machine.

Gosh, he hated that hellish appliance.

There was no way to retrieve the dispenser duck from the bottom of the bath-tube without emptying it. Yellow’s siblings searched for him but the gracious host was nowhere to be found. They were now mad at him because he had ducked-out (pun intended) when it had been time to clean up. They didn’t know he was nearby the washing machine trying to reach them.

It took him two whole days to reach his shelf. He was covered in dirt and pissed off. His rage wasn’t going to last tough.

When his siblings had come back on the shelf they belonged to, from their viewing point, they’d caught a glimpse of him behind the washing machine.

So, as soon as Yellow reached the shelf, they squawked “Happy birthday, Yellow” and gave him the "most gigantic" plastic cake he’d ever seen.

The way he almost melted Shakespeare duck’s tail with his so-not-made-of-rubber birthday candel (and almost burned all the house) is a story for another time. Actually, since Shakespeare duck is not aware of what happened to his tail it’s probably better to keep this story off record.

EP.2 - YELLOW AND THE MUSTACHES

Once upon a time there was a huge stash of melted plastic.Some of the PVC was destined to a duck shaped mold.As soon as the plastic was in its liquid state a machine threw it into a very long conveyor. Long seconds passed and the plastic became cold and solid. Many rubber ducks popped out from the conveyor. There was complete and utter chaos everywhere. Ducks popping and bumping into each other at every turn. This little ducks had no eyes so they couldn’t see where they were going. Something made of cold metal drove them through  the darkness to the paint room. 

A light touch made Yellow tickle. When the brush was done with his job, our little duck looked at the word for the first time. There were nagging and galling yellow rubber ducks  - and nothing else - as far as his brand new eyes could see. Yellow jerked back but he had no time to analyze the situation. A giant pipe sucked him in and threw him out on another conveyor. Without notice, he fell into a tube with other nine rubber ducks. His companions were all in different colors from pink to black and they seemed to be nice pals. The tube was packed in a box and the box was sent to the store. Yellow and his brothers and sisters sat on a shelf for a very long time. He could feel the dust fell like snow and was really sad. He knew he was more than meets the eyes and the fact that nobody would buy him, simply hurt. As the (two) hours went by, finally somebody find out how special he was and bought the set of ducks. Yellow happily whistled all the way home. Baby blue, tried to silence him but the trip was too bumpy and noisy and Yellow was  too happy.  They finally reached their destination: a white bath-tube in a tiny bathroom. In the bathroom lived lots of ducks, they came from all over the word and spoke with exotic foreign accents. To his bewilderment, Yellow was not the only yellow rubber duck in the bathroom but he definitely was the only ordinary yellow rubber duck. He had been the only yellow rubber duck of his set and – after that day in the fabric - he would think of him as special.

Trying to be unique again, one day our rubber friend had foolishly tried to change his color but had almost got himself killed. Due to the fact he was now a very mature duck, yellow decided to try again and this time succeeded. He found a permanent marker and drew a pair of moustache atop his beak. He thought they would have made him look charming and mysterious. He was most definitely wrong.

He was comical. All the ducks had to keep from laughing every time they looked at him and it wasn’t easy.

For all intents and purposes he was now unique and unforgettable.

Luckily, one day, someone took pity of the ducks and cleaned him very carefully. Yellow was now as good as new and even though he wouldn’t have never admitted it, he had hated the mustaches since the first time he had seen them reflected in the restroom mirror.

Back to his previous feature, Yellow’s mind was coming up with a new plan.

There are not enough “I told you so” in the world for our paw-paw yellow rubber duck.