DuckDieNasty.RM: Difference between revisions

I'm a huge fan of Duck Dynasty, much like everyone else. I don't think I've ever seen glitchy or hacked Duck Dynasty merchandise before, but I don't think I want to after the experience I had.

 

KYLE STOP PLEASE HELP ME STOP I COULD NOT RESIST THE CALL STOP DESTROY THE DISC AND THE CALL OR IT WILL ENSNARE YOU TOO STOP I CANNOT DO IT STOP IT IS TOO LATE FOR ME STOP IF YOU DO NOT ACT SOON IT MAY NEVER STOP

 

 

The recording began with the tail end of an advertisement for Jeff's Killer Bleach, and I shuddered in memory of what that product did to my clothes when I tried it—my favorite Duck Dynasty t-shirt was burned to ashes on contact! As the advertisement ended, an episode of my favorite TV show of all time, Duck Dynasty, began. Willie and Jase were trying to redneckify quantum physics by replacing all the wavefunctions with Si's face and introducing a new operator, the Robertsonian, which determines the Americanness of a particle in Planck Freedoms. They seemed about to succeed, when suddenly Willie's incredibly handsome son <s>Jean-Luc </s>John Luke busted in, a worried expression on his absurdly <s>British</s> <s>French</s> beautiful face.

HEAR ITS CRY

 

 

BLOOD MALLARD

HEAR ITS CRY

 

 

That night I lay (or lie—I'm not too sure) awake, unable to sleep for fear of what would happen. Nothing in particular occurred, except that from 12:24:04 to 6:33:15 AM I could hear the faint sound of a duck call being blown over and over. Because I was am expert at identifying duck calls, I could tell the sound was coming from a Duck Commander®, probably the Green Stick of Death I'd seen several times on Duck Dynasty. This specific call is used as a confidence call for mallard drakes and is available for purchase at http://duckcommander.com/node/765 for $19.99 if my memory serves me correctly. I assumed my dog, Fido, had gotten hold of the call that had been mailed to me, but that one didn't look anything like the Green Stick of Death. I was curious, but I remembered that curiosity kills everyone, so I ignored it and got on with my day.

"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.

 

 

With my skull suit on and my AP sensor equipped, I knew I would be nearly undetectable, but I would still have to keep my wits about me as I slinked into the stockroom. I was in luck; my boss was still hungover from the weekend and was asleep on a chair in the middle of the room. Since his desk was on the other side of the room and the right-hand side was covered in boxes full of Dangerous Hunts 20X6, I would have to make my way around the other side, which I could see was positively lousy with mousetraps (we have a rodent problem), bubble wrap (from packing up the remaining copies of Dangerous Hunts 20X5), and landmines (a new product from O'Verkyll Outdoor Equipment). 

As far as I could tell, all the ritual accomplished was a tense swap. Beaux and the calls I stole for him vanish in a storm of smoke, leaves, and T-shirts like before, and the rest of the work day goes as usual. My boss never even notices that his precious calls are gone.

 

 

When I arrived home, I plopped down on the couch, exhausted and confused, and picked up my remote, ready to relax with my favorite TV show, Duck Dynasty. As I aimed the remote at the screen, I suddenly saw it again: the duck call I'd been sent along with DUCKDIENASTY.RM was sitting on the table, beckoning me to blow it. I began to feel a deep sense of dread as curiosity drove me forward. I failed to remember that curiosity kills everyone, and grasped the call.

Unable to resist, I slowly drew it up to my lips and made a "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. 

 

 

When I awoke, I realized I was strapped to a bed in some kind of interrogation room.

"It is done!" he shouted. "I'm a Robertson now, a real Robertson! And finally my reign of terror can begin!"

 

 

I will describe myself as I see myself: I am a great soft jelly thing, having wasted away into a fat slob in front of Duck Dynasty. But I can't stop watching it. After Beaux Robertson joined the show it became impossible to resist watching. I quit my job. I eat nothing but Hot Pockets. I refuse to sleep so that I wouldn't miss the unending marathons of Duck Dynasty reruns. But most of all I play the Blood Mallard. As long as I have the air in my lungs I keep the dread music going. It became so second-nature to me that I can even blow the call while watching the show, and I don't even notice the sound. The sound is everything. The sound is eternal. I cannot stop. I have no life, and I must blow.

 

AND THEN A SKELETON POPPED OUT

[[Category:Satire]]

[[Category:File Extensions]]

[[Category:Demins and Debbils]]

[[Category:Blatant Ripoffs]]

[[Category:Pages with grammar that doesn't suck]]

{{Comments}}