Quackers waddled into the farm kitchen. His belly rumbled loudly. A plate of golden duck sat on the table.
"Duck!" he quacked happily. He flapped his wings and ate with great enjoyment.
Monday brought duck. Tuesday brought deep-fried duck. Wednesday brought chicken.
Quackers ate one thing after another. He grew rounder and rounder each day.
He tried to waddle outside, but his belly bumped the yard fence.
Thursday brought peaches. Friday brought boiled eggs. Saturday brought a mountain of omelette.
Quackers devoured them all. He puffed out his chest to quack proudly.
But only a tiny squeak came out.
Quackers lay flat on his back. His legs stuck up in the air like an overturned boat.
His friends gathered around. They quacked softly and shared stories of earlier meals.
Quackers blinked slowly as his friends nestle close, one by one.
The kitchen clock ticked. The warm smell of bread drifted through the window.