Suzanne Woodstock's Page

Quack.

I could hear Kevin laughing from the other room.

“Did you hear my duck?” I asked. He laughed his affirmative.

My duck is not a pet, but he follows me around a lot. That recent audible visit was the seventh time Kevin has observed me farting. I don’t do this on purpose, believe me.

The first time it happened, it just slipped out, as we were walking into my old apartment. He laughed that time, too.

“It wasn’t me,” I said. “It was a duck. Didn’t you see it?”

Since then, that’s the joke… Continue