I used to watch Disney cartoons as a child, and I always loved Donald Duck. And I don't mean he was my favorite character, I mean I loved Donald Duck. Not sexually, of course, as I was around seven years old, but I definitely was fascinated with him to an unusual degree. I had told my parents I wanted to grow up to be a duck, and I would even walk around with my arms at my sides, just like a duck. I would eat bread and crackers as a snack, and would try to swim around in the community pool using just my feet, just like a duck would. Donald was my idol, and I wanted to be just like him. Well, the one obvious shortcoming that I had is that my voice wasn't like a duck's voice. Donald spoke in such a unique way, and surely this was the thing that I needed to emulate to be more like him. And then I had a moment of brilliance.

My family's dog ripped apart one of its toys, and my parents asked me to throw the scraps away. Buried in the pile of stuffing and cloth was the squeaker. I put it to my mouth and blew on it, and it made a loud squeaky sound. The light bulb clicked on it my head, and without hesitation I swallowed it. Luckily, but to my dismay, it didn't get lodged in my throat and allow me to talk like a duck. However, I do remember passing it and seeing it floating in the toilet. When I flushed the squeaker down the toilet, I felt like I flushed my dreams of being a duck down with it.