Of Ducks and Winchesters. Sort of.

[amberdreams]

In searching for something else I found something very silly.  And then this story happened...read at your own risk!

Warnings: extreme silliness in spite of it being a death fic. Evil!ducks. Unrequited love. Yeah, IDRK.
Characters: Sam & Dean

It all started when our overrated adventurer, Dean Winchester, woke up in a frantic pumpkin patch.

It was the sixth time it had happened. Feeling abnormally puzzled, Dean Winchester slapped a potato, thinking it would make him feel better (but as usual, it did not). Unaware of the bleakness of existence, he realized that his beloved the colt was missing!  Immediately he called his so-called friend, Sam Winchester. Dean Winchester had known Sam Winchester for (plus or minus) 550,000 years, the majority of which were eccentric ones.  Sam Winchester was unique. He was intelligent though sometimes a little... oafish. Dean Winchester called him anyway, for the situation was urgent.

   Sam Winchester picked up to a very angry Dean Winchester. Sam Winchester calmly assured him that most man-eating capybaras cringe before mating, yet Indonesian devil cats usually indiscriminately cringe after mating. He had no idea what that meant; he was only concerned with distracting Dean Winchester.  Why was Sam Winchester trying to distract Dean Winchester?  Because he had snuck out from Dean Winchester's with the colt only ten days prior.  It was a curious little colt... how could he resist?

   It didn't take long before Dean Winchester got back to the subject at hand: his colt. Sam Winchester sneezed. Reluctantly, Sam Winchester invited him over, assuring him they'd find the colt. Dean Winchester grabbed his time machine and disembarked immediately. After hanging up the phone, Sam Winchester realized that he was in trouble. He had to find a place to hide the colt and he had to do it recklessly. He figured that if Dean Winchester took the nappy, busted-out hatchback, he had take at least six minutes before Dean Winchester would get there.  But if he took the 1967 Impala?  Then Sam Winchester would be exceedingly screwed.

   Before he could come up with any reasonable ideas, Sam Winchester was interrupted by eight annoying ducks that were lured by the colt. Sam Winchester belched; 'Not again', he thought. Feeling relieved, he recklessly reached for his dangerous oil-soaked rag and aimlessly stroked every last one of them. Apparently this was an adequate deterrent--the discouraged critters began to scurry back toward the swamp, squealing with discontent. He exhaled with relief.  That's when he heard the 1967 Impala rolling up.  It was Dean Winchester.

----o0o----

   As Dean pulled up, he felt a sense of urgency. He had had to make an unscheduled stop at Big Lots to pick up a 12-pack of dangerous oil-soaked rags, so he knew he was running late.  With a heroic leap, Dean Winchester was out of the 1967 Impala and went exotically jaunting toward Sam Winchester's front door.  Meanwhile inside,  Sam Winchester was panicking.  Not thinking, he tossed the colt into a box of potatoes and then slid the box behind his giraffe. Sam Winchester was relieved, at least the colt was concealed.  The doorbell rang.

   'Come in,' Sam Winchester surreptitiously purred.  With a careful push, Dean Winchester opened the door.  'Sorry for being late, but I was being chased by some funny-smelling coke fiend in a rice rocket,' he lied.  'It's fine,' Sam Winchester assured him. Dean Winchester took a seat not remotely close to where Sam Winchester had hidden the colt. Sam Winchester sighed, trying unsuccessfully to hide his nervousness.  'Uhh, can I get you anything?' he blurted.  But Dean Winchester was distracted. Absolutely thrilled, Sam Winchester noticed a selfish look on Dean Winchester's face. Dean Winchester slowly opened his mouth to speak.

   '...What's that smell?'

   Sam Winchester felt a stabbing pain in his love handle when Dean Winchester asked this.  In a moment of disbelief, he realized that he had hidden the colt right by his oscillating fan. 'Wh-what?  I don't smell anything..!'  A lie.  A stupid look started to form on Dean Winchester's face. He turned to notice a box that seemed clearly out of place. 'Th-th-those are just my grandma's potatoes from when she used to have pet legless puppies.  She, uh...dropped 'em by here earlier'. Dean Winchester nodded with fake acknowledgement...then, before Sam Winchester could react, Dean Winchester aggressively lunged toward the box and opened it.  The colt was plainly in view.

   Dean Winchester stared at Sam Winchester for what must've been ten milliseconds. Before the all-seeing eyes of a perpetually displeased deity, Sam Winchester groped scandalously in Dean Winchester's direction, clearly desperate. Dean Winchester grabbed the colt and bolted for the door.  It was locked. Sam Winchester let out an enticing chuckle. 'If only you hadn't been so protective of that thing, none of this would have happened, Dean Winchester,' he rebuked. Sam Winchester always had been a little clueless, so Dean Winchester knew that reconciliation was not an option; he needed to escape before Sam Winchester did something crazy, like... start chucking bananas at him or something. As if it really mattered he gripped his the colt tightly and made a dash toward the window, diving headlong through the glass panels.

   Sam Winchester looked on, blankly. "What the hell?  That seemed excessive.  The other door was open, you know." Silence from Dean Winchester. "And to think, I varnished that window frame ten days ago...it never ends!" Suddenly he felt a tinge of concern for Dean Winchester. "Oh.  You ..okay?" Still silence. Sam Winchester walked over to the window and looked down. Dean Winchester was gone.

----o0o----

   Just yonder, Dean Winchester was struggling to make his way through the disease-infested jungle behind Sam Winchester's place. Dean Winchester had severely hurt his prostate during the window incident, and was starting to lose strength.  Another pack of feral ducks suddenly appeared, having caught wind of the colt.  One by one they latched on to Dean Winchester.  Already weakened from his injury, Dean Winchester yielded to the furry onslaught and collapsed.  The last thing he saw before losing consciousness was a buzzing horde of ducks running off with his the colt.

   About five hours later, Dean Winchester awoke, his scalp throbbing.  It was dark and Dean Winchester did not know where he was.  Deep in the arid foxy forest, Dean Winchester was abnormally lost. Before the all-seeing eyes of a perpetually displeased deity, he remembered that his colt was taken by the ducks. But at that point, he was just thankful for his life.  That's when, to his horror, a shrunken duck emerged from the haunted thicket.  It was the alpha duck. Dean Winchester opened his mouth to scream but was cut short when the duck sunk its teeth into Dean Winchester's armpit. With a faint groan, the life escaped from Dean Winchester's lungs, but not before he realized that he was a failure.

   Less than eight miles away, Sam Winchester was entombed by anguish over the loss of the colt.  'MY PRECIOUS!!' he cried, as he reached for a sharpened carrot.  With a quick thrust, he buried it deeply into his taint.  As the room began to fade to black, he thought about Dean Winchester... wishing he had found the courage to tell him that he loved him.  But he would die alone that day.  All that remained was the colt that had turned them against each other, ultimately causing their demise.  And as the dew on melancholy sapling branches began to reflect the dawn's reddish glare, all that could be heard was the chilling cry of distant ducks, desecrating all things sacred to virtuous men, and perpetuating an evil that would reign for centuries to come.  Our heroes would've lived unhappily ever after, but they were too busy being dead. 

So, no one lived forever after, the end. :'(

x0x0x0x0x0x

Now you might want to generate your own ridiculous story if you got as far as finishing this one...well you can do, here :

Random story generator http://www.the-elite.net/story-generator/

And now I wish I'd found this before writing my own ridiculous duck story for my Decorator Dave, it would have saved me a lot of pain and probably have come out better than what I wrote....!

Comments

[monicawoe.livejournal.com]

That nearly made me choke on my saag panir, lol. Too funny.

[amberdreams.livejournal.com]

I admit, i was trying not to laugh too loud when I read it for fear of waking my hubby up from his afternoon nap in front of the FA cup footy match....