STRANGERS

“Where’s all your ducks?” asked my waitress, an older gal with cat-eye glasses and butt-length hair.
“Say what?” I asked, surprised by her sudden approach.
“Ain’t no ducks lining your Jeep’s dashboard. Why not?” Her stern face let me know she meant business.
“Guess I’m in duck deficit. What else can I say?” I wanted my smile to count.
“Ain’t no excuse, young lady, so here.” She plopped a yellow rubber duckie on the table. “Seen you drive up in that red Jeep, without. Broke my heart but now, I’m happy you been ducked.”
She winked and I was overjoyed.