To rd or not to rd, that is the conundrum

By Steven C Davis

Or so Duckhouse Eddie would have thought, were he given to thoughts.

You see, Duckhouse Eddie … but I get ahead of myself.

Allow me to introduce myself. I am Delia Spatchcock.

Yes, you heard me right.

Delia.

It’s an old family name; both my father and my grand-uncle (who was also my grand-aunt for a while) went by the name Delia.

But anyway.

Duckhouse Eddie was a lodger at – well, that doesn’t actually matter for this story.

He was strongly built, with a wide chest and a narrow waist; legs almost too narrow to support his bulk, but fortunately his head was quite light because it was mostly empty. It was said that when it rained – which, given it was mostly cloudy all the time, wasn’t actually that often – that he would feel it first.

But that wasn’t why he was called Duckhouse.

He was called Duckhouse because –

Well. I’m not sure we really need to go into that.

Anyway.

To rd. Yes. Well.

Oh, is that the time? I must be going. Maybe next time. You see, there are lots of interesting people in this cul-de-foggy-sack-built-buildings area. Thing. Whatever we call this place we make a home. I shall introduce you to some more of them later.

Ta-ta for now.

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