A while ago, I was bragging to a friend that if I had five minutes and a marker, I could  write a great story about anything, even a duck.  He challenged me to do so.  Thus  “Stuben” was born. 
     Stuben the duck Once there was a duck named Stuben.  Stuben was a rather mundane, hum-drum, casual, plain duck.  Not only that, but he was also average, ordinary, and non-extraordinary.
     More than anything, Stuben wanted to be special.  He couldn’t do anything outstanding. He could swim, but so could the fish.  He could fly, but lot’s of other birds could too.
     But Stuben was smart.  Very smart.  So he decided to use his brain to prove he was special.  He completed a Rubick’s cube.  The other animals yawned.  He built a full size popsicle stick replica of the Lincoln Memorial. The other animals laughed. So Stuben went to the hardware store and bought some wires and pieces of metal and twine and batteries and a transplasmoid phase inducer and a Fruitopia, ‘cause you can get anything at Westlake and he was thirsty.
     So Stuben went home with his stuff and built something.  The other animals were very curious and tried to see what he was building, but he didn’t show them for one week.
     They came that Friday to se, and he whipped out his SUPRA ELECTRO DEATH RAY FROM HELL!!!
    And then he merrily pranced about the forest, frying the other animals into objects not unlike charcoal briquettes.
     And Stuben, for one, lived happily ever after, cackling like a madman and clutching his SUPRA ELECTRO   DEATH RAYFROM HELL!!! to his chest.

The End


     Once upon a time there was a cat named Twinkie.  Twinkie was from the sixth dimension and was a wicked, wicked pussy cat.
     But this isn’t about Twinkie.  It’s about Stuben the Duck.  Yes, that Stuben the Duck.  The one with the
     Anyhoo, after eliminating pretty much every living thing in a ten mile radius, Stuben began to feel lonely.  So he went into his garage and started up his STUPENDIFEROUS FANTABULISTIC FLYING MACHINE!
    He put some celluloid resolution transference chips into the triple capacity fuel oscillation gyro, and off he flew, the polydynamic interplasma cooling coil bubbling merrily, while the big red thingamabob spun ‘round and ‘round.
     So Stuben flew his STUPENDIFEROUS FANTABULISTIC  FLYING MACHINE! into the sky.  He went far away from the woods and into the big city.  He saw a very
high building and parked his STUPENDIFEROUS FANTABULISTIC  FLYING MACHINE! on the roof.  Sitting on the roof was a coo-coo pigeon.  Stuben said “Greetings.”
     “Hello, my name is Thornton.” said the pigeon.
     “Hello, my name is Sally,”  said Sally, who just happened to walk in right then.
     “Hello, my name is Stuben,” said Rob, who came with Sally and was not known for his, shall we say, “stability of the psyche.”
     “No, I’m Stuben.”  Stuben informed Rob.  He then promptly whipped out his new, improved,
SUPRA ELECTRO DEATH RAY 2000, with neuralitic decapacitators and a really spiffy lightening bolt decal.
     He aimed at Rob, who threw his arms up, thumbs gyrating wildly in self defense.  “Button da chick-” was the only noise to escape his charred lips.
     Stuben then put the new, improved, SUPRA ELECTRO DEATH RAY 2000 into his custom made leather SUPRA ELECTRO DEATH RAY 2000 holster.
     Then he and Thornton got on the elevator and went down while Sally swept up Rob.
     On the way down, the two birds discussed such world problems as Iraq, putting the future behind them, and why the words
“FROM HELL” were left off the new, improved gun.  They decided that these were all problems caused by Rob and/or the author.
     When they got off the elevator, both laughing vulgarly at the phrase “got off,”  Stuben strode boldly into the street, determined to make new friends.
     He met an old, withered dog named Logue, and a neurotic, skinny, high strung chickadee named Schmidt, and a magic talking pickle named Case.  Surely these would be his new friends!
     No, wait.  He hated them all.  So he whipped out his SUPRA ELECTRO DEATH RAY FROM  HELL 2000!!!,
and to his surprise, Thornton whipped out a
DELUXE MAGNA COIL ANNIHALATOR PISTOL!!, and both massacred the group of would-be friends.
     They then hired five cheap prostitutes for quick blow jobs and then ate grilled cheese sandwiches.
     And then - the cat came out...
(To Be Continued...)