This seems really boring writing it. So, I should say to myself, "Why am I sucking the life out of this moment?" I really should get out to the temple sometimes. Anyways, I'm tempted to freewrite, except I'm not sure I should 'cause I keep getting interrupted, but I'm sorta already doing it (sorta is in the spell checker?), except somewhat more like usual LJing, and I'm using the delete key, which is probably illegal. Except maybe for typo-nixing. This duck thing makes weird sounds. Maybe if i start a new paragraph, this'd work better.
The duck wanted an umbrella. He wasn't afraid of the rain, but an umbrella wouldn't hurt, and he could always lend it to someone else. It could be a good way to make a friend. If only he could find a place that sold the right umbrellas. All the ones he saw were too large. It was like no one ever made umbrellas for ducks. They thought ducks should just sit on ponds and live in the woods and so on, getting wet. Just because we have waterproof feathers! Raccoons get a movie made about them, but when was the last time he'd seen a movie about ducks? He couldn't remember. And if he had, he was sure that they never had umbrellas. Stupid koalas. They eat all the leaves, teach themselves Latin, grow opposable thumbs, and then they think they're so superior. Ah, but he'd teach them someday. Someday he'd be the king of umbrellas, cornering the world-wide umbrella distribution network. The godduck of the umbrella mafia. He liked the idea. Then he'd show people what good those cutesy-wootsy koalas really were. He'd start a new trend: koala-skin umbrellas. If people didn't buy them, he'd send some of his henchducks and quack them up in an alley. Here and now, though, he only needed the one umbrella. Today an umbrella, tomorrow the world! His name is probably Markos.
OK, that was vaguely weird. I'm not sure I have much else to say. I'd better get some sleep tomorrow; tonight is a crazy D&D schedule. Meant the other way around. You get the picture.