How many ducks make three?

Rubber ducky, you're the one..... *grin*

How many ducks does it take, to make three?

Well, when the mother duck and the father duck love each other very much...

what's love got to duck with it?

Paddy meets Murphy on the road to Dublin, and Murphy has a sack over his shoulder.

'What you got in the sack there Murphy', asks Paddy

'Ducks' replied Murphy

'If I can guess how many ducks you have in that sack, will you give me one of them?' asks Paddy.

'If you can guess how many ducks I have in this sack, I'll give you both of them!' replies Murphy.

'Three?' says Paddy.

'Nope, four' replies Murphy.

Who gives a duck?

Duck knows.

Pep (So the only stupid question is the one not asked, Dove? )

Mmm, duck soup...

In all threads about duck, someone has to add:

"What duck?"

--
Aes

"Bye Dad!" little Johnny hollered as he pulled the front door closed behind him. He carefully walked down the apartment stairs, leading his pet duck Lucky by a leash. The high noon sun shone brightly upon him as he exited out onto the New York City sidewalk, and began to head towards the convenience store, where he hoped to apply for a job as a bag boy.
The store was fairly close to his apartment, if he took the shortcut. Unfortunately, the shortcut led through a rather seedy alleyway. Though Johnny was well aware that his parents wouldn't approve of him taking this route, he felt that since he was old enough to get a job, he was old enough to walk where he chose. As he turned down the side street, the duck quacked, as if to disapprove. Johnny ignored him.

Just as he was about to emerge onto the corner, he encountered a woman in what he would call fancy dress. You and I, dear reader, would call it "slutty." Yes, Johnny laid his eyes on a genuine "working girl," and he couldn't believe his eyes. Johnny came from a fairly conservative background, and didn't quite understand the concept of prostitution. She caught him looking at her, and never being one to turn down a trick, winked at him.

"Would you like to have some fun?" she purred, dripping sexuality. An energetic, virile 16-year-old, Johnny wasn't one to turn down fun, even if he had little idea what it entailed.

"Why sure!" he exclaimed. She promptly took his hand, and led him over to a nearby seedy motel. She booked a room for an hour and they entered. The duck walked into the room behind them.

She slowly removed the shirt she was wearing and threw it out of the way. She walked over to him and cooed, "My name's Jasmine. It's fifty dollars for an hour."

Though up until now, Johnny couldn't quite figure out what was happening, his pubescent brain began to churn and managed to put two and two together. "I'd love to," he said sadly, "but I don't have fifty dollars. All I have is my duck Lucky." Lucky quacked. Jasmine bent over, closely examined the duck, while wiggling her derrière, keeping Johnny in a state of awe.

"You know," she finally said, "This duck looks like he's worth about fifty dollars. If you give him to me, then we can call it even." Johnny blinked. He looked at the duck, Lucky, whom he spent so much of his youth with. Then he looked at the alluring woman, whom would make him a man. Johnny looked back and forth between the two, bit his lip, looked apologetically at the duck, and blurted his answer.

"He's yours!"

Minutes later, they were tussling on the bed, Johnny getting his first taste of the sweet nectar of sexuality. As she began to unzip his pants, something became abundantly, overwhelmingly clear - Johnny's genes had blessed him with a rather large bulge in his jeans. Her jaw dropped when she saw it. It wasn't uncomfortably large, but rather, just the right length and girth to do some massive massaging of her naughty bits.

It wasn't too long before they were making the The beast with two backs on the bed. Despite his inexperience, Johnny's stamina proved to be top shelf. After nearly 40 minutes of coitus, both Jasmine and Johnny were reaching orgasmic heights the like of which neither had experienced. Keep in mind, reader, Jasmine does this for a living. She rolled off him, and they both lay panting on the bed. She rolled over to look him in the eye.

"Johnny, that was the greatest fuck I've ever had. I can't thank you enough. I feel incredible." Johnny agreed wholeheartedly. They chatted for a bit, and then she coyly asked, "Hey, listen, I already told you that was mind-blowing. If I gave you your duck back, would you be willing to do it again?"

Johnny, already showing signs of his new manhood, readily consented. "Fuck yeah!" 40 minutes later, they were finished, once again exhausted. Johnny had to drag his way out of the bed, Jasmine not willing to let him go without a fight. He hurriedly threw his clothes back on, untied his duck's leash from the chair, and said his goodbye.

"I got to go get a job application. It was really great meeting you. Bye!" He left the room and headed back towards his original destination. Johnny was still exhausted from his little romp in the sheets, so the duck was leading the way. He was also not being totally aware, and as he began to cross the street, a car ran a red light and BLAM! - Lucky the duck wasn't lucky no more. A cloud of feathers accompanied the cloud of tire smoke as the reckless driver screeched to a halt. "LUCKY!" shrieked Johnny.

A young professional in a business suit emerged from the car. Frantically, he ran over to the boy. "Oh my God, I didn't mean to do that! I swear? Are you okay? PLEASE tell me you're okay!!!"

Johnny was hit by the sadness of the loss of his childhood companion. He relayed his feelings to the man.

"Listen," spoke the Yuppie, "I'll give you everything in my wallet if you don't call the police. I'm really sorry." He proceeded to empty his wallet to the sum of two Jacksons and four Washingtons. The endorphins from the wild sex not yet totally worn off, Johnny consented. He no longer really felt in the mood to get to the job interview. He turned back around, taking the long way home, his eyes looking below the horizon and a melancholy look on his face. Slowly though, he realized that Lucky was in a better place now, and not only was he a man, but he also had almost fifty dollars to boot!

His frown melted into a smile as he walked into his house. His father couldn't figure out what he was smiling about. "Johnny," he inquired, "You were gone a long time. Did you make it to the store and get an application?"

"No Dad, I never made it there."

"Well, why are you so happy?"

"Well, I got a fuck for a duck, a duck for a fuck, and fourty-four bucks for a fucked up duck."

.

"Uh, Breaker One-Nine, this here's the Rubber Duck. You got a copy on me Pig-Pen? C'mon."

Too bad the poll doesn't show who voted for which option.

.

One duck, a duck and a half, and half a duck

Why a duck?

I'm working on the answer...


It's two ducks and a drake and they are called Dove, Annna and Pep.

The drake is out for a duck.

That is how the saying goes..I didn't come up with it, so I cannot be held accountable for its legitimacy or not

Ok, who is Annna?

Pep see what your dumb antics have started...

Duck Fetus! - A.K.A Balut, Khai Luk, Pong tea khon, Trứng vịt lộn or Hột vịt lộn





Probably one of the few foods I could not bring myself to try. Ewwwww. Time to cleanse myself with pie!

This is a genuine complaint to Devon & Cornwall Police Force from an angry member of the public
A true email sent to the force, lengthy but brilliantly written......

--------------

Dear Sir/Madam/Automated telephone answering service,

Having spent the past twenty minutes waiting for someone at Bodmin police station to pick up a telephone I have decided to abandon the idea and try e-mailing you instead.

Perhaps you would be so kind as to pass this message on to your colleagues in Bodmin, by means of smoke signal, carrier pigeon or Ouija board.

As I'm writing this e-mail there are eleven failed medical experiments (I think you call them youths) in St Mary's Crescent, which is just off St Mary's Road in Bodmin.

Six of them seem happy enough to play a game which involves kicking a football against an iron gate with the force of a meteorite. This causes an earth shattering CLANG! which rings throughout the entire building.This game is now in its third week and as I am unsure how the scoring system works, I have no idea if it will end any time soon.

The remaining five failed-abortions are happily rummaging through several bags of rubbish and items of furniture that someone has so thoughtfully dumped beside the wheelie bins. One of them has found a saw and is setting about a discarded chair like a beaver on ecstasy pills.

I fear that it's only a matter of time before they turn their limited attention to the caravan gas bottle that is lying on its side between the two bins. If they could be relied on to only blow their own arms and legs off then I would happily leave them to it. I would even go so far as to lend them the matches.

Unfortunately they are far more likely to blow up half the street with them and I've just finished decorating the kitchen.

What I suggest is this - after replying to this e-mail with worthless assurances that the matter is being looked into and will be dealt with, why not leave it until the one night of the year (probably bath night) when there are no mutants around then drive up the street in a Panda car before doing a three point turn and disappearing again. This will of course serve no other purpose than to remind us what policemen actually look like.

I trust that when I take a claw hammer to the skull of one of these throwbacks you'll do me the same courtesy of giving me a four month head start before coming to arrest me.

I remain your obedient servant
???????

---------------------------------------------------------------------

Mr ??????,

I have read your e-mail and understand your frustration at the problems caused by youths playing in the area and the problems you have encountered in trying to contact the police.

As the Community Beat Officer for your street I would like to extend an offer of discussing the matter fully with you.

Should you wish to discuss the matter, please provide contact details (address / telephone number) and when may be suitable.

Regards
PC ???????
Community Beat Officer

---------------------------------------------------------------------

Dear PC ???????
First of all I would like to thank you for the speedy response to my original e-mail.

16 hours and 38 minutes must be a personal record for Bodmin Police Station, and rest assured that I will forward these details to Norris McWhirter for inclusion in his next Guinness book.

Secondly I was delighted to hear that our street has its own Community Beat Officer.

May I be the first to congratulate you on your covert skills? In the five or so years I have lived in St Mary's Crescent , I have never seen you. Do you hide up a tree or have you gone deep undercover and infiltrated the gang itself? Are you the one with the acne and the moustache on his forehead or the one with a chin like a wash hand basin? It's surely only a matter of time before you are head-hunted by MI5 to look for Osama.

Whilst I realise that there may be far more serious crimes taking place in Bodmin, such as smoking in a public place or being Christian without due care and attention, is it too much to ask for a policeman to explain (using words of no more than two syllables at a time) to these twats that they might want to play their strange football game elsewhere.

The pitch on Fairpark Road , or the one at Priory Park are both within spitting distance as is the bottom of the Par Dock, the latter being the preferred option especially if the tide is in.

Should you wish to discuss these matters further you should feel free to contact me on <???????>. If after 25 minutes I have still failed to answer, I'll buy you a large one in the Cat and Fiddle Pub.

Regards
?????????

P.S If you think that this is sarcasm, think yourself lucky that you don't work for the sewerage department with whom I am also in contact !!!


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Nothing remotely to do with ducks but worth a giggle anyways

LOL, Mr. Wylder. and now for something completly....ducky.

< Picard >There...are...four...ducks!< /Picard >