Rowley and the ducks

73.In the sleepy town of Ransdonville, a tradition as old as time dominated the weekends: feeding the ducks. The townsfolk, ranging from old Mrs. Brimbleton to the gymnasts at Grigley's Gymnasium, used to crowd the park, hands full of loaves of bread, scraps of horse manure, or seed packets from Fergusson's Feed Store. The bustling scene of the park on a Saturday afternoon was a sight to behold. All except one boy, Rowley, who had his own peculiar ideas of how to interact with these seemingly innocent creatures.

Rowley, an uncannily mischievous 11-year-old, had always walked the line between bravery and stupidity. Being the son of the town drunkard, Gary, he developed quite a knack for finding trouble. One day, while exploring the wobbly labyrinth of Gary's backyard, he stumbled upon a most disturbing and grotesque find, a human finger. For most, the sight of the estranged digit would invoke shrieks and sprint-to-the-pharmacy speeds. But for Rowley, it sparked an idea.

On the following Saturday, instead of the usual bread crumbs, Rowley ventured to the park with his ghastly find. In unbeknownst innocence, he tossed the human finger amongst the flurry of feathery ducks, awaiting their reaction. Unbeknownst to him, this small act of mischief would soon unravel a series of events that would change the town of Ransdonville forever.

Oblivious to the storm he had stirred, Rowley and his family left the same day for a week-long trip to Denmark, leaving the town and its ducks to their newfound curse. The moment they left, the transformation begun. The ducks, once innocuous pond residents, had turned into demonic carnivorous beasts.

Mr. Strong, the town strongman known for his paradoxical allergy to heavy objects, was the first to go. As his frail fingers trembled under the weight of a cotton bud, he was ambushed by the flock. His cries of help drowned beneath the angry honks of his assailants, his bulging eyes the only living testimonial of his shocking farewell.

Lebron James, the happy-go-lucky basketball enthusiast, was enjoying a marathon session of "Family Guy" when he became the second casualty. No slam dunk or crossover could have saved him from the vicious flap of wings. In a cruel twist of cosmic irony, the TV flickered off to static, his last memory mere echoes of Stewie's British-accented threats.

When the family returned from Denmark, they found Ransdonville in a state of horrifying silence. Only skeletal remnants of the once vibrant town remained. Life had been sucked out of the town, leaving in its place a grotesque memento mori. Rowley, in a twist of sadistic humor, couldn't help but release a guttural laugh. His mother joined him, their joyous echoes a jarring contrast to the eerie silence of death.

Their laughter abruptly halted when they witnessed the bizarre spectacle of their father being feasted upon by ducks. The sight shook them out of their cruel amusement. What started as innocent fun had morphed into horrific chaos, and all it took was a finger and a seemingly absurd idea? High creativity indeed, but fatal in its execution.

And that's the dark tale of "Rowley and the Duck Affair," a reminder that even innocent pranks could summon unimaginable horrors if not guided by common sense and respect for nature. No one knows what became of the demonic ducks or innocent Rowley, but the horrifying incident is now nothing but a memory etched forever in the history of Randsdonville.