Dear Entertainee

First off! I am here writing. I write as good as you would expect of a duck, so click on stories and read. Smut is not the goal here, entertaining my readers with relatively fast paced and intriguing worlds/characters is, even though there might be some non-duck oriented fornication.

First there were viruses, then insects, reptiles, fowl and finally mammals; but now there are ducks. By air, land or sea McDucksky will quack your shit up, whether he's biting your toes in the pond, chasing your fat ducking ass all over the lawn or dropping white (depends on colour of lunch) bombs on your car. As splintered as the hammer's handle and as skewed as the sickle crossing it, McDucksky is not the duck you want to quack with comrade.

The cloaca is superior in all ways! And here's why:

Quato, a duck philosopher of old, reasoned that food which comes to our bills must be for times to come; the present comes to us from the future like bread crumbs on the river. While the past flows from us and into our memories like the poop flowing from our cloacas; fresh poop sears the nostrils like the future sears into our memory, just as old poop is simply a stale reminder of a poop long-past passed.

Regards

Duck McDucksky II

'Smarter than geese, more numerous than the Dodos, and more rigid than the sticks stuck up our quackholes. Ducks prevail!' -Alexander The Duck