Ada has long prided herself on her philanthropic endeavors. A cocktail hour to save centipedes? Check. A visit to a conservation zoo to see their new injured sloth collection? Check. A membership to the local aviary? Check. She’s always loved to give but until recently had no idea it could be gratifying and also terribly dangerous.
She stopped by the duck feeding station on her recent trip to her local aviary (where she contributes ten percent of her annual income to save endangered flamingos and giant bulbous-headed pelicans). She put in a shiny quarter, turned the crank on the handle, and waited with little flutters of anticipation for the little pellets to fall into her palm. She turned and turned, but nothing happened. Ada banged on the machine a little, but nothing happened. Finally, out of frustration, she slapped it. There was a thunderous roar and a brown explosion. Duck pellets aggressively flew out of the machine until she was up to her neck in them. The sky blackened with wings; before she knew it, beaks were everywhere. “Stop it! I’m not food!” She screamed. “HALP!”
“She’s been hit by a duck.” She heard the paramedic say right before she passed out.