“Does Mrs. Bilbao have a cell phone?”

I figured we could call her and get Chickenman – or Big BirdTM, or whatever he wanted to be called – back here to fight the killer ducks. We were barricaded in the lobby of Painted Desert Marketing, the sounds of little duck machetes and axes at the door.

“No. Can’t you just draw another superhero? Maybe Super Duck Hunter or something?”

I explained to Misha that I was a little reluctant to draw anything new. Who could guess what I would release into the world? Sure, maybe he would be a benign goofball like Chickenman, but it could also be a raving lunatic like Happy Jack.

I saw a glint of metal out of the corner of my eye as one of the ducks managed to work an axe head through the front door. I could see his beady little duck eye peering madly through the crack.

“Well, we have to do something, baldy!”

Misha and I pushed her desk up against the door, but that was going to be a temporary measure at that.

“What about an inanimate object? Surely that wouldn’t destroy the world. Some kind of anti-duck weapon?”

“I don’t know how to fight!”

“Then design something for me.”

It was a good idea, I guess. It would really depend on what we named it. I don’t know why my mind flashed on it, but I was suddenly reminded of the origin of Iron ManTM. See, they needed Tony Stark to make a weapon, so he designed this suit of armor. This seemed like a great idea.

I sat down and took a good look at Misha. Attractive, slim, and – I guessed – Japanese. I drew this great suit of samurai like armor for her. It showed a lot of leg. She didn’t seem to appreciate this at all.

“What the hell is that?”

“It’s, uh, magic samurai armor. See? It sprays deadly shooting stars from the wrists and, with the jet pack, you can fly. Also, the helmet is hooked up to the Interweb so you can access any information you want instantly.”

“You have made me Japanese stereotype armor. You are a complete ass-hat.”

I guess I was, but my being an ass-hat was about to save us from the ducks. The armor rose up off the page.

“Look away. I won’t be able to put this on over my clothes. Sexist ass-hat.”

Yeah, I guess I had made it skintight. I was beginning to realize that I found Misha kind of hot. Maybe she thought I was a jerk now, but I was sure that, in time, she would come to love me, especially if we were co-workers. To be honest, I believe most women I am attracted to will come to love me if given time. While this has almost never proven true, I figure this is just because I have given it enough time.

“All right, I’m ready to face the ducks.”

I turned around. She looked pretty hot in the red and white armor. Well, and pretty pissed off. I admit, though it was metal, it didn’t really leave much to the imagination. Actually, now that I thought about it, it also left an awful lot of flesh exposed to attack.

“This is completely impractical. There wrist bands weigh a ton, my left leg is completely exposed to duck sized attackers, I can barely see through these goggles and I’m afraid that if I bend over to kill one of them, I’m going to completely fall out of the top of this. I mean, what the hell?”

There was no time to respond, because at that moment, the ducks burst through the front door. Misha immediately release a burst of throwing stars, which cut through three of them.

“You should make a joke about Peking duck now,” I joked.

“Shut up or you’ll be eating star next. Jesus Christ.”

She turned to face the remaining two ducks. The meaner of the two came flying at her with a little chainsaw, which didn’t even nick her armor, though it did take a chunk out of her exposed arm.


She activated the rocket pack on the back of the armor, which fried the duck, which had landed right behind her. She also screamed in pain and collapsed to the ground. Apparently, the flames from the rocket pack were able to burn her exposed left leg. Oops.

The last duck, enraged by the deaths of its friend, came at her with his axe, but she must have been in shock or something because she didn’t move. Not knowing what else to do, I leapt at the duck and made a slash across the length of its back.

“That’s a deadly wound,” I yelled.

The duck turned away from Misha and start to approach me.

“Quaaaaaaack. Quaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaack.”

I tripped over the cooked body of his companion and fell backwards. With a quick flying hop, the duck was on my chest, raising its axe. I figured this was the end. However, just then, blood and organs started flying out of the opening wound on the duck’s back.


It fell over dead. I looked at the pen, and then got up to check on Misha.


“We couldn’t get the armor off of her, I’m afraid,” said the paramedic.

“Its, uh, magic. I think only she can take it off.”

“We don’t go in for magic around these parts,” he said.

Misha was taken off to a burn unit at the local hospital. As the ambulance drove away, Chickenman and Mrs. Bilbao returned from their date. From the grim look on her face, I guessed that Mrs. Bilbao was none too happy about the destruction of her front office.

“I’m sorry about this,” I said, “ we had a problem with ducks.”

“That isn’t important right now,” said Mrs. Bilbao, “that demon you created attacked a death metal concert in Phoenix and killed a bunch of people.”

“We have to stop it. We’ll need help,” said Chickenman, with a determined frown.

“What band,” I stammered.

“I think their name was Frayed Corpse.”

Frayed Corpse. My friend’s band. The one for whom I had originally created the image of the demon. Now, he might be dead and it was my fault.

“What sort of help?” I shot, pulling out my notebook.

To Be Continued

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