So there is a saying that "ducklings who you insult will bite you as a duck". And ducks bite pretty fucking hard. (This saying doesn't actually exist, but it's a neat way to start off a story).
Here is now Klara. Klara once offended a duckling, but refusing to give it a crisp. At this refusal, the duckling promply attempted to bite her toe (the duckling thought it was a bit older than it really was). It failed. Now it is holding a grudge against her. It will never forget the Insult.
Klara worked in the elderly care. One of the elders she helped was a sweet old man named Humphrey. Humphrey was of the whispering kind, the animal whispering kind. He kept a silly amount of animals around, just for the sake of keeping animals around. He thought they were nice! Now, he didn't actually need the care, except he did due to all the animals he had to keep track of. The cat required feeding thrice a day, the kittens it had had with the neighbours horse required shoeing on and off every time they would step through the front door (this was Sweden after all, even kitten/horse amalgamations are expected to go without shoes inside. Fucking barbarians). The dog also needed petting and the neighbours horse needed an eye kept on it. This, together with the demand to every once in a while pay taxes, left Humphrey with no time to care for himself. And since he had already survived 73 years (the fucker) he could now ask the community to care for him, so he could care about everything else.
On one of Klaras rounds, she was invited to a coffee with Humphrey. This was a kind invitation, however, Humphrey had a plan in the back of his mind. A plan to pay off an old debt.
"Ah, how sweet of you to invite me for a fika!", said Klara.
"It's nothin' it's nothin'", sang Humphrey.
"Old pop melody, is that?", asked Klara.
"Yea, one from my childhoods", answered Humphrey. (It is perfectly normal in Sweden to have several childhoods. This is generally seen as like when you do the moving to a new place and new school you get a new childhood. Or a second one. Anyways, new friendgroup, new childhood. Humphrey had 4 childhoods.)
"It's a quite wonderful one I say, I 'eard it on the radio back in the day, and it has stuck with me", reminisced he.
"Did you keep it as a casette?", asked Klara.
"No not that one no. Or perhaps. Well I did have it as a casette, at one point, however, I think I pushed it to one of those spinny records, the, fuck, wossname, ergh, right so the big black spinny records?", he lost track.
"Vinyl?"
"Oh yes! Vinly!"
"Nenene. Vinyl", Klara corrected.
"Vinel. Venil. Wine? Vinyl", he got the needle back on track.
"Right so yes, I pressed it to a vinyl and then I took out the vinyl player and brought that, together with the vinyl of course, to the coop. And at the coop I played the song so that the melody would be inserted into the melody of the chickens. And the duck" he rambled.
"Ah I see. You then threw the casette?", Klara asked.
"Very plausible. It may be somewhere though, I ain't very sure", answered Humphrey.
"Anyways, how were the buns?", asked Humphrey.
"Sweet! My wife would have hated them, she despices anything sweet, she does not eat pears due to them being too sweet. I love sweet though, the lil crystally sugary bits are wonderful!", she answers. Before Humphrey gets in a word, she continues;
"Last week, I was trying to bake something for her to snack while she'd be working. I pondered the question of what to bake for her for several hours. I took a walk through the forest pondering. I cut down a tree in frustration. And the finally I went to the grocery store and bought a breakfast cookies", she went.
"Did they satisfy her?", Humphrey asked.
"She said they were 'eatable'", she finished.
"I see. Now, I think I must go visit the coop, remove the vinyl player. Do you wish to come along?", he invited.
"I do have to go soon, for the others are waiting. A minute to hear that song should be just fine though", she answered.
At the coop, a fearsome head peeked out. And peeked back in. It was time for it now. Just not the current now but a very close futured now. The upcoming now. Anyway, it waddled menacingly. It had been a very patient day. It carefully tucked its snooty bit from the coop opening. She would suspect nothing.
"That's the vinyl player? Is that your own construction?", asked Klara.
"'Ts been a wee project of mine, to build it yes", Humphrey answered.
"Have a look at the details on this side, I'm quite proud of 'em", he said.
She went forward and crouched beside the player. It was a bit of a marvel, as long as you discounted the "bring your chicken to work day" sticker by the base of the needle. Truly a work of art. The swirling patterns of gold (but not of actual gold, the metal that shines like gold but is some amalgamate of other metals, the stuff of trumpets) reminded her of her younger days when her parents had (like every other parent in her area) tried to get her to pick up an instrument. She hopped a step to the left, and suddenly her foot made eye contact with the door to the coop.
The duck rushed forward. And as promised, the duck bit her toe.
"That should be enough for the shiny egg no?", Humphrey asked the duck.
The duck nodded.
"I beg my thanks to ye. 'Ave a good one!", he called after the duck as it started waddling away.
The duck quacked.
And flew off.
"What the fuck", asked Klara.
"It's a duck, not a fuck. And you better add miss to that", finished Humphrey.
Slut.