Myth of the One Buck Duck

In the beginning, the Auntie booth was just books, coloring books, and glittering disco balls. But the people wanted more. And by people, I mean me. They wanted a relic, a trinket, a keepsake of the feral magic.

That’s when the ducks appeared. Bright, smug, bobbing in a bowl like they already knew they were the main characters. They’ve been sitting there through setup, eyeing the words and pages, just waiting for their moment.

And if you listen close, you can almost hear them quacking about where they’ll end up — maybe floating in a bathtub, maybe riding shotgun on a Jeep dash, maybe tucked into a pocket or gripped by sticky toddler hands.

Each duck has its own fate, but all of them are thrilled. They weren’t made to sit in a bowl forever — they were made to waddle into the world, tiny warriors of whimsy, one buck at a time.