A Day in the Life of Drake Wingsworth

My stepdad never met a joke he couldn’t stoop to make.

For either his birthday or Father’s Day one year, my gift to him was to pile on as many puns as possible into one story. My mom recently uncovered the document (duckument?) and sent me a picture. It’s at least twenty years old — printed out in dot matrix with “restaurant” misspelled twice. It’s too good (by which I mean awful) not to share. I’ve transcribed the text below just so you don’t miss out on your full quota of humor.

Apparently I ended it with the personal note to my stepdad, “If you don’t like this, you are a dad duck.”

I should be more ashamed of this than I am.

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A Day in the Life of Drake Wingsworth

It was a duck and stormy day in the month of Marsh, and Drake Wingsworth was feeling a little ill. He ate some peanut-butter quackers, but since he was still feeling bad, he decided to go to the ducktor’s office.

When he got there, Dr. Daffy D. Donald told him to sit on the examining table.

“Does this make me a sitting duck?” Drake asked.

The ducktor ignored this fowl joke. “Why are you here?”

“Because if I didn’t come, I’d be a dead duck,” Drake answered. The ducktor frowned, which is hard to do when you have a long yellow bill. Drake added hastily, “I’m just picking. That makes me a Peiking duck.”

The ducktor quickly wrote out a prescription and showed him to the door. “You’re no ducktor,” Drake said. “You’re just a quack.”

He saw a Better Nests and Gardens magazine in the waiting room. On the front cover was a picture of Mallary Eiderdown, the wife of the famous conduckter Leonard Birdstein, who had been abduckted a few days ago. “She certainly is a coot little thing,” Drake thought.

He walked over to the corner restaraunt, Kwackin’ Kathy’s Korner Klub, and sat down at a table “Hi,” the waitress said. “I’m Daisy. I’ll be your waitress. Waddle you have?”

“Just a glass of Nest-tea,” Drake said. But before Daisy brought back his drink, he realized that he had no money in his billfold, so he ducked out of the restaraunt.

Back home, he fell asleep to his duck tape, and slept peacefully until the winging of the alarm clock the next morning woke him up.

Such are the producktive days of Drake Wingsworth.

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