Terrence was an unfortunate boy with an unfortunate destiny. He was commissioned by the sheep living under his bed to find a rubber duck which would save their world. For many years the boy searched and begged his mother to buy him any rubber duck he saw. He would get home and promptly shove the newly acquired duck under the bed to join the sheep. But every night the sheep came to him and informed him that it was not the duck that they needed.
Terrence would consistently resolve to never buy another rubber duck, but as soon as he saw the yellow plastic and smelled the rubbery smell, his resolve faded and he was inevitably shoving yet another rubber duck under his bed.
His father worried about his son, wondering what in the world a 10 year old boy could want with so many rubber ducks. His mother worried about the fact that he shoved these seemingly important possessions under his bed. On the eve of the boy’s tenth birthday, their discussion went as follows:
“Hannah, dear, it just isn’t normal for a boy his age to have an obsession like that.”
“Roy, you know you had obsessions when you were that age.”
“Yes, but with sports and cars. You know, normal boy stuff. Not ducks. And certainly not ducks that are shoved under the bed. I think he must have every rubber duck that could have been made. I mean he can’t even get in or out of his bed on the side next to the window because they’ve come out of the other side of his bed.”
“I know, honey, I’ve tried to convince him to put them on the shelves we built for him but he is determined to continue shoving them under the bed.”
“I think we just need to make him get rid of them and let him cry it out for a while and then maybe eventually he’ll just get past this and we can move on. He can decide to play a sport or something.”
“Honey, I just don’t think that’s wise. He’ll end up in counseling and blame everything on us. I mean, he hardly talks as it is. The most he speaks is to ask for another rubber duck whenever he sees one.”
“Well, then maybe we tell him that he can only keep a dozen and that we must get rid of the rest.”
His mother sighed, “I hope we can laugh about all of this one day.”
The boy’s father snorted as he turned the volume up for the game to come back on.
Terrence heard the conversation from the hallway and peered around the corner to watch the game. He hid there often enough to try and learn the sports about which his father was so excited but he couldn’t quite figure out all of the rules. They seemed confusing and he was already confused enough by the sheep and the ducks.
Terrence returned to his room later that night to finally confront the sheep.
He closed the door to his bedroom and squatted down to see under the bed.
“Yodler. Come out here. I have to talk to you.”
A fluffy white sheep with a graying black nose waddled out with wide eyes, “Yes, young master?” The sheep spoke with a British accent, which made him seem more regal.
“I can’t get you any more rubber ducks. I have all the ones that have ever been made and I’m sick of ducks. I’m finished.”
The sheep hung his head and his old eyes lost the little twinkle that was left. “Terrence, we’ve been through this before. If you refuse to get us the duck we need then we will perish forever. All of us.” When he said this, three more sheep emerged, one of which was a young lamb. “But whatever you wish, young master. We are at your mercy.”
“Yodler. You do this every time. You make me feel badly about this by bringing out some cute, new little lamb and I can’t take it any more. My parents think I’m crazy and that I need therapy. Maybe I do. I talk to sheep every night who make me buy them rubber ducks because they’ve made me believe that it’s how I can save their kind. But nobody else can see you, can they?”
The lamb walked to Terrence and rubbed his soft head against the boy’s leg.
“Get away from me, little lamb with the cute face and the big black pleading eyes. It won’t work this time. I’m finished doing this can’t you see? I’ve become a strange kid. I’m turning ten tomorrow and I don’t want to do this any more so I’m not going to. Go back under the bed and don’t come back out ever!”
The four sheep disappeared under the bed, but not without pleading with their eyes to the boy that he might change his mind. He refused to be moved by these looks and climbed into bed.
He slid under the sheets which were decorated with rubber ducks and looked at his clock that had a rubber duck on it. The duck informed him that it was nearly midnight. Terrence shut his eyes tightly from the eyes of the duck and tried very hard to sleep.
The next morning the summer sunshine beamed through his window and he rolled over and saw the familiar clock telling him that it was 8:47. He threw the clock against the wall and jumped out of bed. As soon as his feet landed on the floor he tore the sheets from his bed. He promptly carried the sheets down to his mother who was washing dishes from the breakfast she had fixed for his father before he left for work.
“Mom, I want new sheets for my birthday. Something with sports or cars.”
His mother glided over to him and put her hand on his shoulder. She spoke with a soothing voice, like she always did when she was about to treat him like he was younger than he actually was. “Sweet T, you don’t have to do that.” Her face turned to a look of concern, “You heard your father and I talking, didn’t you?”
Terrence nodded but quickly added, “But that doesn’t matter. I’m sick of ducks and sheep!”
“Sheep? Sweet T, you don’t have any sheep.”
Terrence dropped the sheets to the ground and ran to his bathroom, uncertain if he should finally confess to her why he had always needed the ducks in the first place.
The bathroom was also decorated with rubber ducks and he decided to ignore that while he took his shower. He just closed his eyes and felt around for the shampoo and soap instead of facing all those blank, beady black eyes.
Once the shower was complete he ripped the shower curtain from its place and thrust it under the sink along with any other duck he found in that room.
After the hurried shower and the purge of ducks he knew he’d have to go to his room again. He built up his courage and held his breath as he walked through the door. Just having the sheets off of his bed helped tremendously. He put on the first clothes he found and noticed the pile of ducks bursting out of the other side of his bed. He shoved and shoved the ducks trying to get them under the bed and out of sight, but they kept bursting out of the other side.
He searched the room for something that could block up one side of the bed. He found garbage bags and duct tape that he had used to make a kite for a class project before the end of the year. He began throwing the ducks into the garbage bags. Once one was full he shoved it under the bed.
In all, he filled nine bags full and in his effort to get them all under the bed he duct taped the bags to the legs of the bed.
Feeling triumphant and finally free of the ducks and the sheep which demanded them he yelled, “Victory!” as sweat dripped down his face and back.
His door swung open. “Sweet T, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing, Mom. Actually, everything is great! See?” He pointed to the bed.
“Oh, T. You didn’t have to do that. You know that we will love you no matter what you decide to like.”
“Oh, but Mom, I did have to do that and I feel so much better about it.”
She shook her head, failing to know how to respond.
Once he relaxed from the euphoria he saw the box in his mother’s hands. “What’s that?”
“Oh right. It’s a birthday present from your grandmother.” She wiped a stray tear from her cheek.
The wrapping paper was rubber ducks. He was trying so desperately to be free of them but they followed him everywhere and on his birthday. “I don’t want it.”
“Sweet T, it’s from your grandmother. You need to open it.”
“You open it. I can’t look at any more ducks. Today or ever!”
She slowly ripped the ducks off the box, feeling sad about the sudden change in the boy who never seemed like he would outgrow his rubber ducks. She knew her husband would be more tolerable, but she felt a piece lost in herself. That piece that would find joy in seeing a rubber duck that she knew Terrence hadn’t acquired. The joy of buying it, bringing it home to him and watching him shove it under the bed, which was now drowning in black instead of the mix of orange and yellow.
“Here, the paper is off. You can open the box now, can’t you?”
“I guess.” He took the box from her cautiously and slowly opened the lid. Staring out of the box was a rubber duck. Not just a normal rubber duck, but one from his grandmother’s road trip. She enjoyed travelling around the nation in her motor home. And this particular duck came from San Angelo, Texas. The sign that the duck held revealed that he had come from the country’s largest sheep auction. But that wasn’t the worst part this particular duck wore a sheep’s wool and smiled at the boy with eyes that knew he would despise his very existence.
The boy squeezed the duck slowly with anger and frustration. The stare-down between the two was silent except for the faint gradual squeak from the wool-laden duck.
The mother watched the showdown with horror. Her duck-loving boy was no longer duck-loving and was moving well past boyhood.
As soon as the squeak ceased to emit from the duck, a siren sounded in the neighborhood.
Terrence ran to the window of his room which faced the street and saw hysterical people run down the street chased by running water which was quickly gaining in speed and volume.
The boy ran back to his mother and grabbed her hand. “Mom!”
Tears streamed down her face. “I’m sorry.”
“Mom! I don’t care about this now. The dam broke.”
She paused, not bothering to process the words quickly.
“Mom! Mom! The dam broke. We have to get out of here.” He pulled her towards the window. “Help me open this!” He shoved the sheep-duck into his pocket and pulled at the latch. The window was sticking. “Mom!”
She felt her hands against the window and saw the water coursing down the street and felt the seeping carpet beneath her feet. Words began to make sense again and she pulled at the window with her son.
They opened it just as the water reached the bottom of the sill. Water began flooding the boy’s room. She helped him onto the sill and tried to hold him up as the water pushed through the open hole.
“Mom. I can’t reach the roof. What are we going to do?” The water pushed him back into his mother’s arms.
“I really don’t know. Maybe we wait as long as we can and then try to swim up to the roof once the water gets higher.”
He looked into her eyes with his own sadness now, “But Mom. You don’t swim.”
She began to cry again. He wrapped his arms around her and they held each other tightly. The last time he remembered hugging his mother this tightly was when she had bought him the first duck. She remembered that too.
As he felt the water reach his shoulders he looked around his room before death overtook one or both of them. He whispered in disbelief, “Mom.”
“Yes?”
“Mom. Look!”
She turned from the window and the growing abyss of water to see a bed floating on top of the water that was rising in the room. Her jaw dropped.
Terrence ran to the bed and began pulling it towards the window. “Mom, help.”
She came to herself sooner than before and helped her son pull the bed towards the window. “Do you think it’ll hold us?”
“We have to try, don’t we?” He pushed it through the window, it just barely fit. Any later and the water would have been too high.
Once the bed made it through the opening he pushed his mother onto the window sill and then onto the floating bed. He quickly followed her through the window and was just able to make the jump before the current of the water took them away from their house.
They passed several rooftops and people floating on various objects clinging to them with every bit of strength they had. Though the objects were many and varied, none of them seemed to be as sturdy as the bed held afloat by rubber ducks.
As they floated, Terrence pulled the duck out of his pocket and looked at the beady eyes. They no longer looked evil and he silently apologized for being so cross. The sheep and the ducks had saved him and his mother; no one considered him unfortunate any more.
