September 20, 2009

The Ugly Duck

A modern version of The Ugly Duckling. People curse in it. This was one of my favorite childhood stories ever.

Come on children, take your seats, said Mrs. Swan Head. Today's class is on how to introduce a very slight sashay and twirl in your steps as you glide. Only a few weeks now for graduation, so always remember that these are lessons you will need lifelong. Pay very close attention... YES Marcus, what is it NOW?

Marcus the Ugliest, a.k.a Mugface, rolled his eyes, and scratched his balls sorrowfully. He was an unpleasant duckling with bushy eyebrows and a perpetual bored-as-fuck expression. May I please be excused Mrs. Head? I feel a big, fat fart comin' on this very instant and I think my ass might explode from the pressure.

All the ducklings burst out quacking. Mrs. Swan Head rolled her eyes. She enjoyed a good joke but Mugface was so very lame that it was annoying. After all, this stupid job teaching ugly duckling wanna-be-swan d├ębutantes didn't pay enough. No, actually Marcus, please stay, she said. This is a perfect time to teach the class how to control farts, or if completely unavoidable, how to fart without sound. It was supposed to be tomorrow's lesson but that's okay. I want you all to take this down. Wait for just a minute please, will you, Marcus?

  1. Hold it in as much as you can. Distract yourself by humming or thinking of Enrique Iglesias and his extra-small dick. If you can succeed till you manage to politely get out of hearing range, excellent. This is the mark of a blue-blooded swan. However, most swans do not achieve this, so proceed to step 2. (Marcus, kindly stop moaning and rolling like a pregnant pigeon. It's very unbecoming of a final year student, also highly disturbing.)

  2. The essence of farting silently is to take it slow.. just let it go smoothly, smoothly without putting too much effort. A noiseless fart is easy but requires practice. Clenching your fists helps, as does clenching your butt muscles. (Marcus, clench your butt muscles. Clench. Good. Observe him, class. And no, you are NOT going into labor here, Marcus)

  3. As you all probably don't know, being coarse and common little bitches, a very essential part of the process is getting the timing right. I mean the interval between letting out a quiet fart and accusing the uncoolest person in the group. It is a well-known fact that the farter never gets the smell (some kind of innate protective mechanism, I presume), and always blurts out “Yuck, Vicky let out a nasty stinkie” waaayy before anyone else even gets a whiff. This will make you look sneaky so at all costs, get the timing right. Exactly 8.5 seconds for the aroma to diffuse through your underwear, your pants and sail upwards to assail unsuspecting nostrils. 8.5 seconds. Count in your head. (Marcus you little pussy, be a drake. Be a drake.)

  4. This next part is the trickiest but crucial. Sniff the air gently. Stop in your tracks, or whatever else you're doing and in the most disdainful voice you can muster, say, Oh dear goodness, whatever IS that terrible smell? Don't ever, ever use the word “fart” because that would mean you are actually thinking instead of blindly reacting. (MARCUS, STOP putting your finger up there!)

  5. Once the other people do the usual “I think Andrea or Vicky farted. Or it could be Chuck”, casually say, “I'm pretty sure it was Vicky.” Don't add anything more. Appearing too eager can also seem suspicious. (Victoria, just sit down please. You are too nerdy to not be aware of the fact that you are extremely uncool and also very pissy.)

  6. Finally, change the subject. You can either do it dramatically like, “Look, I gotta go do homework” or gently, like “Guys, let's not make Victoria uncomfortable. Poor girl. Let's drop it and talk about the something else”. The second way will make you, of course, a well-bred swan while the first will just make you more like Victoria.” (Stop sobbing loudly Victoria, it's rude.)
Okay, children. Do you have all that in your notebooks? Now for the practical part. Marcus, I will guide you through the steps and I want the class to ...


The fart alarm went off and the room was covered instantly in a dense brown fume.
Oh dear goodness, whatever IS that terrible smell?, asked Marcus delicately.
As oxygen masks dropped from the ceiling and the ducklings stampeded each other to get out, Mrs. Swan Head could be heard telling Mugface about his two week detention cleaning out the toilets.

It was two days later. School fuckin' sucks man, grumbled Mugface. He dragged on the joint and exhaled slowly, making rings in the air.
It's okay Mugsy. We all know Mrs. Head is a, you know, hmmm, cocaine prostitute. Just think about graduation, and being a swan. Finally being able to soar through the skies looking majestic and absolutely fly, said Victoria looking into her boyfriend's red, red eyes.
Fuck you Vicky. Don't you know we're never gonna be swans? It's just a stupid fantasy your parents tell you so you stay in school.
Oh but I love school. And of course we'll become swans. When I become a swan I won't need these braces. Or these glasses. At least that's what Andrea says.
Oh man, screw Andrea. Have you ever seen a swan? Except high up above? Ever seen a swan come back as alumni or something and give us pompous talks? Never. Because they never were pug-ugly overly-educated ducklings to start with. Fuck this system man. I think I'll drop out and sell birdseed.
Now just you listen to me Marcus the Ugliest, you will do nothing of the sort. You are going to graduate and you are going to be the handsomest swan in the whole of Pondside. Don't you go thinking otherwise. Then we'll get married and have lots of really ugly ducklings and.. and.. all that... She stopped uncertainly.
See how absurd it is, Vicky? How can swans have duckling babies? It's just a stupid fairy tale.
I still believe it, said Victoria pissily. I will be a swan, and what's more, without short sight or crooked teeth!
Whatever, said Mugface. He took three large hits in rapid succession, laughed like a maniac, and passed out.

Graduation Day finally arrived. One by one the ugly ducklings received their diploma, made boring speeches and were conducted to The Metamorphosis Zone. It was a long passageway cut into the side of a hill and any duckling entering was supposed to come out a swan at the other end and fly away to seek fame and honor. No one actually knew anyone who had returned, but it was a sacred ritual and nobody doubted it's validity. Except Marcus. Eaten by fuckin' wolves or some shit, I shouldn't wonder, he muttered darkly as he watched his friends go one by one. He was bottom of his class so he had to go second-last. Victoria went first, with much honor and many bows, having come first in class.

All right then, whatever. Screw you all. If I become a swan I'll come back and make fun of your ugly faces. Or not. See ya, said Marcus in his brief but clear speech and sauntered to the Entrance.

After a long walk, it started to get really hot. His feathers started to fall. He felt very, very scared in that dark place but he kept going. All his feathers were gone by now. Oh my God, I'm really becoming a swan, thought Mugface. I'm really going to be a swan. I'm going to fly to the clouds. I'm going to marry Victoria and we are going to have ugly duckling kids. It doesn't make sense but it's a brave, funny world out there. A grand, good world. He was so happy.

Hardly ten seconds after the last feather fell, the passage turned abruptly and Mugface stumbled out into blinding sunlight. And there, in front of him, was the most beautiful sight in the world. Rows and rows of swans taking off like bomber jets, never looking back.

Soon it was his turn. He rotated his wings. He stomped his feet. He was good to go. Then he looked down on himself and almost fainted. For he was naked. His skin was patchy and red. There were no pretty swan feathers. No magnificent wings and sturdy beak. He was just a bald uglier-than-ugliest duckling. No, he corrected himself numbly. I graduated. I'm The Ugly Duck now. A stupid ugly duck. The ugly duckling transformed itself into a frog instead of a Prince. He felt suicidal.

Just as he was looking around for broken glass to slit his throat with and end it all, he heard a squeal from the back. It came from behind some gorse bushes a few feet away. He walked to them slowly and was amazed to see another naked duck lying prostate on the ground, obviously having hidden itself. It looked oddly familiar. And it was sobbing it's ugly face out. Wait, this can't be. It can't possibly be.. no way... oh holy cow... the thick glasses, the black-and-pink braces....Victoria!

Vicky what happened? Why aren't you a swan?
I don't know, I don't know. Oh, what are we to do? We must be the only two Ugly Ducks in the whole of the universe. Oh the disgrace! Everybody else is gone!

She wept and wept and wept.
Mugface hung his head. Doom reared it's pretty-in-comparison head and laughed scornfully.
Mugface frowned and thought harder than he ever had in his entire life. He hated seeing his love cry.
Then he gently took Victoria's face in his hands. Baby, he whispered. I love you more than anything else in the world. And I want to be with you forever. I just had the greatest idea. We're the Ugly Ducks, the most unique couple in world. I know a way to fame and glory and highest quality of birdScotch.

Victoria looked up, but there was no hope in her eyes.

Don't you see? There is nobody like us in the entire, fuckin' WORLD. What do you say we pimp ourselves out to the biggest circus? Like the Great Political Circus? People from all over the earth will come to see us walk around upside-down dressed like clowns or some shit. We'll be rich, rich, RICH!!!

Victoria's face lit up beautifully. Like all women, she loved money, especially the shallow kind you make just for your appearance. All right, let's get to work then, she said. We need a publicist, a beautician and an office. We also need to bribe journalists and reporters to give us TV coverage. We need to find a place for... She paused, gasping for breath.
Marcus the Ugliest Duck pulled Victoria Pissyface close and beaked her. My queen, he said. My sweet angel. You are MY swan.

Oh no, said Victoria gently, I'm very proud to be an Ugly Duck. And boy, do I hate those swans with their airs and messy long feathers and wingspans. Let them go, you know, molest themselves.

Women, ah inscrutable women.

Of course the Two Ugly Ducks went on to be very famous. Marcus even did a stint in acting under the pseudonym Daffy Duck, where he was as ugly and belligerent as ever. As soon as they had enough money, Victoria got laser correction for her eyes along with extensive dental surgery, and was immediately initiated into “100 Most Beautiful People” by Voguebird, that very fashionable magazine read by all the snob-avies.
They had thirteen extremely ugly children who were firmly never sent to school and went on to become great politicians.

Marcus spent most of his spare time shooting swans.
“Oh Vicky dear, come and see. I think I accidentally shot Mrs. Head in the head.”

And they all lived happily ever after. Except the swans of course, unfortunate things.


mentalie said...

hullo! i loved the ugly duckling as well and you take on it was funny...and very very plausible ;p

Ketan said...

Wow! Funny as well as evocative of many other emotions I can't name!

Uncommon Sense said...

it was funny but it kind of gives a sad feeling after having read it...

alcoLOLz!1!! said...

what if it is just u and one other person and u gotta let one rip? help plz!

Psmith said...

whacky !

youve been away from the blog for ages havent you :)

Tongue Trip said...

ok, first of all, youre such a male! and this is such a male post..grrrrrrrr whats with men..thier eternal fixation with farting and fart jokes??? uh alright, i have to say you did make me laugh- got so whacked out funny towards the end..oh and like all the women victoria loved money too?? frown, frown so hard that my eyebrows wont unhook now @ generalization!!! more geese than swans now live, more fools than wise..sigh ..mrs head really got fucked in the head??

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