Putting on your safety goggles and gasmask, you wonder yet again about if the organizers know what a “sport” is. But, no time to complain now: the ski chemistry competition is just about to start. Just as you’ve snapped on your skis you hear the familiar sound of dAnkan’s rapidly approaching complaining moments before they enter the locker room holding a newspaper.
“OH THE DUCK-MANITY!! MY POOR IMAGE, HOW COULD SHE HAVE DONE THIS??” dAnkan wails to anyone and everyone that bothers to listen.
“What’s happened, boss? Is the reporter going after you again?”
“Again? AGAIN!? She has brought it to new heights! Listen to this: “I fear a Norwegian witch has stolen not only dAnkan’s athleticism, but also their intelligence.” And on top of that, not only does she imply me forgetful and un-updated, she has also published this atrocious picture of me! Look at that atrocious background, it really does not do me justice…” dAnkan trails off, staring at the front page article with sad, duck eyes.
After a brief moment of silence, dAnkan realizes they have some more complaining in them. “I have never felt despair this analog, so floating. The signals she sends to me through this ancient medium tumbles me into a deep duck-pression…”
“Oh it’s not that bad, boss. She got your good side atleast!” you say, your attempts at encouragement falling on deaf ears. “Come on, help me clean our pipettes, we have some chemistry to do.”
“No, I’m afraid I cannot go on. Theresa has won, my spirit is crushed! I plan on moving overseas and changing my name to Finley Breese. Please, you must find some purpose for all this slander! Surely not even a witch like Theresa would sink this low without cause…”