The Duck

Often, when I’m bored at work, I’ll go outside and pretend to be talking to someone on my cell phone. I don’t know why I started doing this, maybe so any onlookers would think I was doing something productive. Regardless, I’ll stroll up and down the sidewalk manufacturing a conversation with my imaginary party. These conversations will typically go something like this…

“Hey , it’s me. Yeah. MmmHmm. Yeah, I remember you telling me that. Ok, so around 6 then…”

…and so on. However, occasionally the conversation will drift onto the subject of a duck. I don’t know why, this is nothing I’m consciously pushing towards, I’ll just start talking about a duck.

So, what does this mean? Is there some sort of duck related trauma in my past. Is this some verbal form of automatic writing dredging up repressed memories? Why is there a duck in my head? Sure that duck at the zoo bit me when I was 8 or 9, but I’d hardly call that traumatic. Why is there a duck in my head?