DuckDieNasty.RM: Difference between revisions
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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.
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
I left my old, rundown split-level after about forty-six seconds of horrified soul-searching and finally summoned the courage to pick up the package.
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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.
Just then Si opened the door, got on the floor, and did the Dinosaur.
BLOOD MALLARD
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I hopped out of bed, took a shower, dressed in a plaid shirt and black dress pants with red Converse All Stars and grey wool socks, ate a bowl of cornflakes, and drove to work. Because my truck is really slow—not much faster than my ATV, despite having flame decals—I had to leave about a half hour earlier than most people do.
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,
rfect. 7/10 IGN.
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About halfway through my day (so about 3:30 or so) I was interrupted by a sound I recognized as the Duck Dynasty title music, and I realized my cell phone was ringing. I put down the case full of Colt M1911A1 pistols I was moving to another shelf and answered.
<nowiki>*****</nowiki>
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When I returned from the stockroom, successful in my mission, Beaux was there waiting for me, shotgun aimed at my chest.
The duck calls began to glow. The signatures of the Robertsons burned bright yellow and streamers of light flowed from the calls into Beaux. Then suddenly it all stopped. The glow faded and the streamers cut off. Beaux looked terrified and angered.
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.
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HEAR ITS CRY
Unable to resist, I slowly drew it up to my lips and made a
<nowiki>*****</nowiki>
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