There is a Chinese proverb that states, “Man who waits for roast duck to fly into mouth must wait very, very long time.” I, on the other hand, simply have to drive around the corner to have a duck catapult itself into my car window like some kind of bombardier on a suicide mission.
Apparently, not only do I attract freaks of the two legged kind, I am now attracting freaks of nature.
I actually had a duck commit some form of duck hari kari on my car! I mean, what are the odds of that happening? Surely, this must be a sign. A sign of what, I have no idea, but it has to mean something because there is nothing more absurd than a Jew, in a Swedish car, with a Russian Muscovy duck splattered all over its passenger side window tooling around town on a bright, sunny day.
My car had plumage and duck guts all over it. Top that Boogie Man! I tried to run it through a car wash but it didn’t really work. The car still had quills poking out of the door frame. So I took it to one of those hand-wash places. As luck would have it, nobody spoke English so I had to put on a play and act out what happened. As I flapped my wings and smacked the palm of hand to my forehead in a dramatic reenactment of the crime, the Portuguese carwash men stood there and laughed at my pain.
One by one the car washers plucked the feathers from my car and washed the duck debris from its chassis. They washed, buffed, and waxed until my car was fowl free.
It was over. But not before a large, white blob fell from the sky and plopped all over the hood of my car.