VoicesDubsArt

The pair sit across from each other. Their table among many.  The general noise of polite conversation and tender expressions surround them. A fine establishment for an equally fine date. Red had picked this restaurant hoping to impress the bird. But as he looks about he realises he’d overlooked one significant detail. A bead of sweat dribbles down his brow, everywhere he looks he can see his mistake. In the eyes of other guests, he sees his fatale flaw. Hushed voices mimic the exact words that burn into his brain. “Is that a duck? Is he dating a duck? But isn’t duck on the me-“

‘Oi! I was talking to you.’

‘Huh?’

A groan. ‘I can’t believe you for, the third and final time, hand me the menu! I’m starving.’

Usually lazy and somber, a frantic Red whips the menu far from Duck’s reach. A nervous chuckle. ‘Why not just order a salad or something?’

A scoff. Feathers ruffle and brows narrow. ‘What are you trying to say?!’

‘No,no that’s not what I meant- I- what about the lasagna then.’ He’d seen Duck eat lasagna before. He likes lasagna, there is no need for him to see the Chef’s recommendation.

Duck cocks his head to one side, like some perplexed puppy. Finally, he clocks that something is up. Red is clearly disturbed…and it’s not just the usual butterflies one gets on a first date.  He decides to surrender the menu…this once. ‘Well, I do like lasagna.’ The bird muses.

— 

Duck has always had an appetite, Red considers, watching the bird munch a good portion of his lasagna. He remembers how the small bird had engulfed 13 inches of a Hawaiian pizza all by himself the night they met. Meanwhile his food remains barely touched. He cannot bare to eat. A roast duck is served to the couple neighbouring their table. The remains of a duck flambé passes them on its way back to the kitchen. The waiter even has the audacity to offer him duck liver parfait- right.in front. Of Duck. 

Yet, Duck seems completely unfazed… or perhaps he is just completely oblivious. The bird seems so determined to gossip about a client of his that he just seems to miss it all. That annoyingly yet somehow endearing squawking laughter of his, amplifying the noise in the restaurant. Red stares at the avian, all animated, eyes closed in an expression of sheer delight. Laughing away at his own joke. And Red question’s everything; how could anyone look at such a beautiful creature and think ‘food’. It just doesn’t seem to make any sense. Duck is annoying and, honestly, kind of an asshole but somehow cute and pleasant to be around…how could anyone-

‘Red?! Red!’ 

A feathered hand waves at him, bringing him back into the moment. ‘What?’ Duck had apparently hopped onto the table in an effort to shake Red from his thoughts. 

His date sighs, folds his arms and pouts. ‘You haven’t been listening to me! You haven’t even tried to listen to me.’ Red flinches a little as Duck throws his hands up in frustration. ‘I might as well just speak to a brick wall.’ He complains.

The date is a total disaster… perhaps Red should have suggested a trip to the cinema instead. He hangs his head, staring down at his fumbling hands. 

‘What is going on with you? You haven’t even touched your hot pot!’ A layer of concern begins to coat his tone. His hands move to hold Red’s. The mop monster locks eyes with Duck.

 ‘I just-‘ His eyes look away. The churning feeling in his stomach only worsening. The sounds of cutlery seem deafening, it pierces his ears. His thoughts spiralling and a chill runs down his spine. He wants to throw up but focuses hard on the feeling of Duck’s hands in his. They ground him…just  enough for him to find the words. ‘This place is- can we go?’

Duck squeezes his hands a little.

‘We could go and get ice cream or something?’ Perhaps he can convince himself to eat something sweet… or at least make amends for a terrible date through heaps of sugary goodness.

Finally he has the courage to look Duck in the eyes. A sympathetic gaze stares back at him. Duck isn’t sure what’s gotten Red so unnerved but he knows it only began when they entered this place. He is given a nod. 

‘Alright.’ The bird climbs down from the table and gathers up his coat. No questions asked.

—-

The night air is refreshing, calming even, a welcome contrast from the unbearable tension inside the restaurant. Duck wordlessly pads beside the bigger creature. Carefully linking their arms.

As they near the ice cream parlour Red holts. He wants to be sure that Duck understands something. ‘Wait.’ Crouching to the mallard’s level he stares straight into the other’s eyes. ‘I just want you to know, I don’t eat duck. I don’t even like it. It’s disgusting and-‘

Squawking laughter has him flinch once again. Is he laughing? Why is he-

‘I know that! Obviously!’ Duck chortles, hands moving to his hips in that ‘I know everything’ manner that this annoying little shit shows on the daily. ‘And quite honestly I wouldn’t care if you did! I just demolished an entire beef lasagna.’

‘Yeah but it’s not like we have any friends who are cows or anything-‘ Duck meat just seems so personal. What with him literally being in love with a duck.

‘Oh Red you are always so sensitive!’ He smirks, giving the red fellow a patronising pat on the arm.

Offended. Red pulls his arm away from the short bastard. ‘Alright. Don’t make fun of me… it’s just… I don’t know… I kind of like you and the thought of someone eating you is- it’s just personal okay.’ … ‘you just don’t understand.’

Something shifts in the bird and his expression softens. His hand grazes the tip of his stomach scar and there is a flash of something. Something almost painful.  It’s fleeting though and quickly replaced with a toothy smile. ‘Well, no. But… perhaps a little hand hold and some ice cream might help?’

‘Yeah. Yeah. I think it might.’ His gigantic mit moves to hold a small feathery hand.