Mr. Quacker

Mr. Quacker

         “You haven’t been yourself lately”, I said to Mr. Quacker. I squeezed his thick belly and an unfamiliar squeaking sound filled the classroom. The teacher was standing in front of his big wooden desk saying something about numbers. I was sitting in my small wooden desk with Mr. Quaker in my lap. The room became silent and everyone just looked at me in disbelief.

         “What?” I said.

         Mr. Quacker squeaked again and I heard someone giggle.

         "What was that noise?” the teacher asked.

         “My pet duck, Mr. Quacker. I think he might be sick”, I replied.

         “Is this some kind of joke?” the teacher asked. I could tell he was getting angry because of his face. It was turning all red and his forehead was getting all crinkly.

         Mr. Quacker squeaked again and there were more giggles. I don’t know why they were laughing. Mr. Quaker was obviously in great pain. His squeak was all wrong.

         “Give me the toy”, the teacher yelled as he slammed his fist on the desk and stormed over to me. I was afraid for Mr. Quacker, but it was better to listen when the teacher got this mad.

         I held my pet duck out and the teacher snatched him away and hurled him out the open window. I heard a faint squeak as Mr. Quacker landed on the hot blacktop of the playground. Tears started welling in my eyes. I wanted to run to the window and make sure Mr. Quacker was okay. He wasn’t a toy, he was my pet, and he was sick.

         The teacher stared at me forever. I think he was waiting for an excuse to make me feel worse than I already did. I closed my eyes and remembered what Mamma said, “Pets go to heaven baby”

Jan 2011