[ unheimlich re:entrance ]

You know that old comic book story where our Everyman hero and blue-coated hothead duck – Who walks around pages stark raving naked, as it happens (but not that that concerns our simple telltale story, let us proceed auntie X!)- Um, yes where our brave little hero goes roaming the land, exploring vast unmapped countryside, discovering new and unseen pleasures of the most splendid kind- Anyway- What concerns our wee story is the brief (but fatal) encounter mr. D has with a certain peasant town named Eggville, a place where the men are real manly men, living off the land, planting plowing sowing seeds and roasting corn while lickle children sing and dance around the hayball farmhouse- All while pious wimminfolk sit silently humming on the porch in their ol’ granma rocking chairs, knitting socks for the little’uns and dispersing eternal wisdom in the form of riddles folksongs stories-

Yes, a true secure haven of honest workmanship and old-fashioned stability, until our unfortunate duck jinxman enters the scene, that is- I can assure you most honourable readers, it is not a pretty sight to witness the most frightful disaster which does (yes, sadly) unfold next, so let’s cut to the chase and spool over the worst bits with fast-forward remote button play-

I never figured out quite how the whole ghastly scenario did unfold to such a devastating effect, nor do I remember (please bear with me and see that this mind is a ramshackle, brittle little thing that more often than not decides to exclude even the most crucial facts and plot climax endings, always when it’s needed the most, such a malfunctioning and kaput a device should be banned from existence in every well-furnished and respectable skull, yet isn’t it always so that what you can’t choose, instead chooses you? They tell me that, then shrug and say “you should’ve thought twice before you were born, sad litte thing, it’s too late to turn back now, you know”- Yes, isn’t it so that your beloved turd brain always lets you down when you need it to think a nice thought? But where were we. Oh, yes-)

Poor Eggville. What happens, is this: Mr. Duck, in a rather bad turn of fate, happens to wreck a mountain-huge container building containing the city’s entire egg warehouse, and the unlucky villagers flee with hellish screams as their beloved village is flooded with eggs...It happily follows that the crafty dear townsmen later return to their homestead and re-build it under the name “Omelette”, but this our heroic duckman is not there to see, he fled over the hills when the first glistening eggshell started to crackle and spurt. THE (BITTER) END