DuckDieNasty.RM: Difference between revisions

It started when the postman, who I notice is wearing a super creepy fake beard that obscures his eyes and forces the reader to ignore the tense swap in the middle of this sentence, arrived at precisely 9:37:58 AM CDT, left a rain-soaked cardboard box on my doorstep, and vanished with a laugh that reminded me of Tim Curry—though not the Tim Curry from "It”It" or even "The Hunt For Red October;”" this was the Tim Curry from "Clue,”" the spookiest murder mystery of all time.

"Well,”" I thought aloud with a sudden mid-Atlantic accent, "that was certainly strange. I haven’t received a telegram since nineteen-aught-six.”" I knew it was a bad idea right from the start, but something came over me. I felt . . . possessed . . . almost. I walked briskly into my living room, popped DUCKDIENASTY.RM into my LaserDisc player, and plopped onto the couch with a piping hot pepperoni Hot Pocket and a hot fudge sundae. As the LaserDisc splash screen appeared on the screen, accompanied by the THX sound played in reverse, I jumped, spilling the Hot Pocket off the plate. It would have landed on my shamefully small penis (I never wear pants when I’m watching Duck Dynasty, obviously) but luckily it became stuck on my beard. I pulled it out and wiped the excess beard hairs on my napkin, then continued eating as the disc played.

"Dad, Jase, y’all gotta stop! Y’all’re gonna mess up the space-time continuum if y’keep playin’ around with the laws a physics an’ such!”" The show cut to the usual interview over background defocused stock footage with Willie facing the camera—clearly it was composited using Autodesk Smoke 2011. He shook his head.

"I done told that John Luke a thousan’ times, ‘there ain’t but one law on this Earth, and it’s the law of our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.”" The show returned to WIllie, Jase, and John Luke in front of a chalkboard covered in equations and poorly drawn penises. Still unsure, John Luke sat down in a comfy-looking swivel chair and considered the math. He furrowed his brows and turned to his father, puzzled.

"I just don’ see it, Dad,”" he said. "The symmetry of the system jus’ don’t allow y’all to cancel the imaginary part of the wavefunction—an’ I’m pretty sure the total energy ain’t equal to some dude’s junk.”"

"That ain’t just ‘some dude,’ John Luke!”" Jase interrupted. "That there’s ''my ''family jewels.”"

"What’s gotten into him?”" Jase said.

"Ain’t nothin’, Jase,”" Si said, picking himself up. "Check out this here new Duck Commander® I’m working’ on.”" He produced an artfully made duck call—a call so masterfully crafted I could swear it would reroll ones to hit and wound against ducks of all kinds. The reed and barrel were shaped into the figure of a slender woman and appeared to be carved from ivory or bone. Si pressed his lips to the reed and blew, but before any sound could be heard the screen cut to red and black static, and the cosmic microwave background radiation appeared hyperrealistic, as if you could actually feel the texture of the Big Bang if you touched the screen. The screen then went completely black except for five words which I will never forget as long as I live:

I arrived at my local Cabela’s, where I stock shelves, and prepared for a long, hard day of sweat and the grinding of wood on cardboard. I entered the stock room and was greeted by a pile of boxes full of merchandise, which would have to be moved from the loading dock to the shelves and sorted—the new Cabela’s Dangerous Hunts game had been released that morning and we knew hundreds of eager gamers would line up just for a chance to own a copy. I didn’t blame them; this was the long-awaited sequel to Dangerous Hunts 2011, where we finally see what becomes of Cole Rainsford and the militarized animals imported to America. The game was subtitled, "Rise of the Planet of the Kaftars,”" and would detail the demon-hyenas’ eventual worldwide military takeover and Cole’s one-man war against them. Even the critics had spoken: the game was pe

"Hello, Hank. I bet you know who this is.”" Because my phone is a 1987 DynaTAC, I didn’t have CallerID, so I was forced to guess. I hoped my guess was right, since I only had about five minutes of battery life.

"Bootman Bill?”"

"No, guess again.”"

"Sonic the Hedgehog?”"

"Getting warmer…”warmer…"

"…''Satan?''”" The person on the other end began to cackle with a demoniac fury that could only belong to Lucifer himself , and I knew it was true. "What do you want from me?”"

"Your SOUL!”"

"Never! I’m a good, G*d-fearing Christian like all Duck Dynasty fans and you’ll never take my fucking soul!”"

"Forget it, I have to try that with everybody. Anyway, I have a friend coming to ask you for a favor, and you'd be wise to do as he says. I think you’ll know him when you see him. He’ll be there any second now.”" I heard the dial tone and pressed the off button. I was about to get back to work, thinking maybe there had been a glitch in the phone company, when I heard the door to the Cabela’s open and close. In walked a man dressed in RealTree camouflage and holding a similarly camouflaged Remington Model 870 pump-action shotgun. He looked me straight in the eye and raised his weapon. Then I recognized him: it was Beaux Robertson, John Luke’s fictional cousin!

"Howdy, Hank,”" he said with a maleficent grin. "I need you to do me a favor.”" Terrified that I would soon be a red oval gradient on the wall behind me, I replied. I was too scared to press the silent alarm button under the counter.

"This store has somethin' I want, and you’re gonna get it for me.”"

"What’s that?”"

"A full setta autographed Duck Commander® Signature Series calls.”" I gasped. Those were my boss’ pride and joy! He kept the calls in a glass case above his desk and would do anything to keep them safe.

"All right,”" I said. "How long do I have?”"

"One hour. If I get back and you ain't got the calls, then your next meal is a mouthfulla 00 buck.”" He left the store with an evil smile and vanished into a dark cloud of smoke, leaves, and official Duck Dynasty T-shirts that fluttered away on the breeze. As the last of the leaves settled to the ground, I knew there was only one way to steal the duck calls: a sneaking mission.

"Ya got ‘em?”" he asked. I nodded and handed over the three calls. He began to laugh maniacally, his voice lowering to an unsettling bass. "Finally!”" he shouted. "My apotheosis will be complete! With the sacred calls of Willie, Si, and Jase, I can enter this world permanently and become a real Robertson!”"

"No!”" he screamed. "It was supposed to work. It had to work! Was the essence of the Robertsons not enough? What more do I need?”"

Unable to resist, I slowly drew it up to my lips and made a "tut”tut" sound. I didn't hear the sound at first, but after an eerily realistic pause I heard a sound like glass scratching on concrete. It was so loud I felt my ears bleeding and I tried to stop but the dreadful cry continued. It was the scariest thing I'd ever heard, and I began to cry as the noise drilled into my skull. I collapsed onto my living room floor, and as I fell my head collided with the coffee table. The last thing I can remember from that night is a short, sharp shock to my left temple; not so much a pain as just some random feeling. How wrong I was to dismiss it as such.