Duck Duck Truce: Crayon Box Rocks

Welcome to another exciting edition of rhyme time!  That's right, I wrote a new poem, and it's about the duck decoys on my mantel.  They say that when you spend a lot of time alone, you start talking to yourself and/or inanimate objects.  In this case, the objects are talking to me -- or rather, to another inanimate object, my faux forsythia wreath.  Anyhoo, I call the poem Flighty Ducks Get Their Wings Clipped -- for reasons that will soon be clear.

The four little ducks
In this pic had a fight
Each wouldn't give in,
Each thought he was right.

But the wreath below them
Was upset by their strife
And said they should stop
If they valued their life.

That gave the ducks pause
And they shut their beaks
For only fools quack
When a wise woman speaks.

The wreath smiled sweetly
And glowed like the sun
She wasn't just decor
For good times and fun.

I was once like you,
She told the four ducks
Ungrateful and selfish
And out for big bucks.

But then a wise antelope
Showed me the way
And soon I gave thanks
For each gift of a day.

Thank you, wreath lady
Chorused the quartet
We'll be good to each other,
We'll be our best yet.

No need to thank me
Replied the gold wreath
Just help one another
And treasure your teeth.

"Wait, what?" said the ducks.  "We don't have any teeth!"

But the wreath was already gone.  In her place was the grinning face of Emilio Estevez.  His smile was mostly toothless, and The Mighty Ducks theme song was playing in the background.  The duck decoy on the end screamed; the duck next to him muttered that he would've preferred to hear music from St. Elmo's Fire. 

Me too, duck one space from the end, me too.

This post isn't just about repentant waterfowl and underdog athlete flicks.  It's also about Crayola crayons and the Hard Rock Casino, two artsy icons at opposite ends of the rainbow paint palette spectrum.  Crayons are wholesome (even when eaten, they're nontoxic), whereas rock and roll is all rebel yell (although I realize how unhip it is to reference Billy Idol instead of Billie Eilish).  They have nothing in common.  Except for maybe when the waitress at the Hard Rock Cafe brings little Katie a pack of crayons.   

Well, that and they're both built for expression.  Which is obvious given my unfortunate air guitar performance in the pic above.  The husband took it back in January, or, as I like to call it, "the time that came before" (the coronavirus).  And although it's true that I had a good time, it wasn't as good as the time I'm having now.

Right, Emilio?

I quack myself up.