Army of Duckness

My Sloth is a wonderful person (she'd have to be, to put up with me) but even her patience and tolerance for my incessant oddness can occasionally wane. Therefore it was with some trepidation that I sent her the following text, some days ago:

Me: Darling. Very important question. Which would you prefer - a dead kestrel sewn onto a stuffed pine marten, or an army of taxidermied ducklings? Hint: there is no wrong answer.

Sloth: Uh. None.

Me: I said which.

Sloth; You SAID there was no wrong answer.

There was a brief pause.

Sloth: Okay, I'm swaying towards the ducklings.

Me: SWEET. I can line them up for you, with post-it notes on their little chests! They'll be waiting for you to leave the bathroom or trip over them in the hall during the night and did I mention I love you?

Sloth: Sigh. I love you too.

The only thing is that the eBay listing claimed that the ducklings died of natural causes. This struck me as, well, slightly suspicious, given that there were 20 of them. I found myself unable to conceive of a situation where 20 ducklings simply (and usefully, given the nature of this seller's business) keeled over. Then I realised that for the past 15 mins I had been sitting at my desk, pondering how one might best murder baby ducks without leaving any marks, which should have worried me but didn't because DUCKLINGS YEAH.

Now, I know my Sloth, and I believe I know how to target/market to that audience with just the right amount of wheedling, convincing, persuasive non-logic and baffling tangents. Therefore I decided it was wise to leave this topic for a few days, to allow it to marinade in her subconscious. Yesterday after my Sloth finished work, I picked her up with some beer so we could casually hang out in the garden square like the cool kids do.

Me: So, darling. Ducklings.

Sloth: On a related topic, I'd like to point out that your last blog post contained some inaccuracies. I don't nose pinch, I facepalm. Which I believe is an appropriate response to this and many other discussions we've had.

Me: Well excuse me. It's hard to tell exactly what you're doing when your head is in your hands like that.

Sloth: Do you not wonder why?

Me: Mmm, not really. Darling? Ducklings. Focus.

Sloth: (clawing at her face with her hands) AHHHH. Seriously?

Me: Yep. And look, I've had time to think about this, and just imagine the fun we could have!

Sloth: (heaving a sigh) Uh huh.

Me: We could recreate scenes from famous films.

Sloth: Titanic?

Me: YES. And say, the Godfather. And Harry Potter. These ducklings will pay for themselves.

Sloth: I fail to see how, exactly... but... we could do a Lord of the Rings battle scene.

There was a moment of joy while we both pictured this, before her face fell in horror.

Sloth: ...What are you doing to me?

Me: Okay. Just hear me out. What about... A DUCKLING CHESSBOARD?

Sloth: Um...

Me: We could make little hats for them, to signify the appropriate pieces.

Sloth: I suppose. We could paint half of them black.

Me: The only problem with that is the listing was for only 20 ducklings and a chessboard would require 32. I suppose I could buy two cases, but that just seems silly. Or-

Sloth: I am not going to let you supplement my chessboard with stuffed rats. Don't even think about it.

Me: How do you feel about voles?

Sloth: I'm... not totally sure. I kind of want to facepalm again.

Me: What about polecats?

Sloth: I'm not having a polecat on my chessboard. It'll never fit. And please, please disregard the fact that I've now referred to it as "my" chessboard twice.

Me: Even if you don't want to admit it, some part of you has already committed to making our dream come true.

Sloth: (muffled groans of what I can only assume was unbridled joy)