I suppose it began when I constructed what I believed would be the perfect duck trap. I come from a long line of duck trappers. Ducks, you see, where I come from, are vicious and carnvirous. The ducks you are familiar with are probably tame and timid. Not the ducks in Newgatsbyville. They are the scourge of the town. Furious, savage creatures. Being a somewhat ambitious lad, I spent the majority of my formative years attempting duck trap immortality, through the creation of the perfect trap.

I remember this particular day as if it were yesterday. It was early spring, and I had spent the prior evening burning my lamp into the wee hours of the morning, toiling over what I believed to be the most innovative duck trap ever known to man. I don't mind saying that the trap was rather ingenious. The ducks which frequent my hometown of Newgatsbyville are quite attracted to shiny objects, such as tin foil, or the toenail of a flittleween (a small, weasel-like creature, whose toenails, in addition to being shiny, are quite delicious; especially to the vicious ducks I just mentioned). Weeks prior, I had created a perfect decoy flittleween toenail out of a misshapen paper clip, and the shavings of an ordinary spatula handle. Once I had the bait, all I needed was a cooagulated spindle apparatus which would expel a fine mist of the proper caper-shallot seasoning into the air. Luckily for me, I had a cog-tailed ballywench in my cloak, which I had bartered from a hermit for a can of garbanzo beans.

So, as you can imagine, I had what I thought to be the perfect duck trap. I set out to Gallix Pond, where the most beastly, carnivorous ducks make their homes, and set my trap upon the edge of the banks. Then I set up camp, grilled a moist leg of chameleon, and waited. Sometime around dusk, I heard the snap of the pressurized saline chamber, and my heart jumped as I sprang to my feet to examine my trophy. That is when my adventure began...

As I crept through the crabgrass toward my snare, I heard a clawing and pawing that sounded foreign to even the most evil and furious of Gallix Pond ducks. As I peered around a nearby sycamore tree, I saw a sight that made my blood run cold! A selbinox! In my trap! What's that? You're unfamilliar with the selbinox? Well, that's not surprising. A selbinox hasn't been seen in these parts for over a hundred years. I'd say your great grandpa probably heard legend of said creature, but I don't doubt that the legend has passed you by, what with your fascination with video games and reality television.

A selbinox is a small fuzzy thing, with a round belly and silver whiskers. Looks a bit like a small bear cub, but with pointed ears, and hands and feet like a monkey. It's also worth noting that the beast has a long spotted tail which is more powerful than a boa constrictor when it comes to squeezing. It's known for it's melodic, trance-inducing whistle, and it's unquenchable curiosity. In fact, the old saying used to be "Curiosity killed the selbinox," until 1822, when the number of curiosity-related feline deaths surpassed that of selbinox related tragedies. The selbinox also possesses strange sorts of magic which most people don't understand or care for. Many live to be several hundred years old, but as the human race's fondness for concrete, motorcars, and tall buildings grew, selbinoxes scattered further and further away, preferring calm quiet, and the sound of a breeze rustling through the leaves of the trees.

So, as you may imagine, I was most shocked to see an angry selbinox, rattling about in my duck trap. I approached warily, careful not to make a sound, but the selbinox has a sixth sense that we humans don't possess, and he knew right away that he had company.
"Show yourself, " he commanded, "lest I whistle a year of your life away." When the selbinox whistles, it reaches a pitch that no instrument crafted by human hands has every been able to replicate. This particular pitch, when it enters the ear, hits the eardrum in a fashion which vibrates the brain into a state of temporary paralysis. Many an irritated selbinox has held this whistle for months at a time, just to spite an unfortunate person who stumbled into its midst.

As is customary when confronted by a selbinox, I removed my left shoe, and stepped out from the clearing. The creature's steely eyes pierced me like a needle, and I felt his magic, thick in the dewey spring air.

"I apologize for your capture, selbinox," I uttered, " I trap Gallix ducks, and I had no idea that you inhabited these parts. I can assur--"

"Enough! Enough!" the selbinox interjected, "Let me out of this contraption, and I'll be on my way. Under normal circumstances I would conjure a rain cloud over your head that would leave you cold and wet for days, but I simply haven't the energy now. I'm already late for an important appointment. Come now, open this trap at once!"

I uneasily approached the trap, as the selbinox watched my every movement. I knew fairly well that any wrong move on my part could send him into a fit of anger that could result in dastardly results, so I was careful to show that I meant no harm.

As I pensively crept forward, I heard a rustling in the bushes that gave me the notion I was not alone with my trap. The selbinox heard it too, and he hissed with aggravation.

"Don't move another inch!" he whispered. "I don't like the sound of that. Stay put and see if it passes."

At this point, I was in quite a vulnerable position, having moved out of my cover in the bushes into a clearing. But I didn't dare move, lest I anger the already annoyed selbinox. So I froze and waited.

The rustling grew louder, and I felt the flutter of butterfly wings in my belly. I eyed the selbinox, whose whiskers were standing upright, the tips aglow. His tail was batting to and fro, and I knew he was preparing to use his magic. His eyes were fixed on the shadows of the bushes.

All of a sudden, the largest, hairiest, most savage-looking duck I have ever seen at Gallix (or anywhere else, for that matter) emerged from the bushes, steam snorting from his snout, and eyes glowing red with a fierce intensity that made my heart sink into my intestines. This particular bird stood roughly seven feet tall, and when his jagged fangs caught the light of the moon, I nearly fainted. I looked up at the pale moon, and thought to myself, "This is it. I am duck dinner."

Gallix ducks, while savage and blood-thirsty, are also rather daft, and are cursed with poor eyesight. They mostly pick up on shiny objects or sudden movement; the former makes them hungry, and the latter makes them angry. When these two feelings mix in a Gallix duck, the results are usually fairly grim for all parties involved. This is why, if you have ever ventured anywhere near Gallix pond, you'll see signs posted everywhere, cautioning you to conceal any jewelry, and to drink your cold beverages from a bottle rather than an aluminum can. In this particular event, I was blessed by quite a stroke of luck, in that I was standing stone-still. The selbinox, on the other hand, was not so fortunate, being pinned in a small cage with my shiny decoy flittleween toenail.

The bloodthirsty duck eyed the decoy toenail with great predatory delight. Flittleweens are rarely seen around Gallix Pond these days, having been nearly hunted into extinction by both duck and man. It was obvious that this particular duck had not seen one in quite some time, and he let out a deafening, joyful roar as he inched closer to the toenail. I could tell that while the could not see the selbinox, who was quite still, he could sense that something was not normal, and he approached with caution, sensing the energy that the selbinox was slowly summoning. I felt the eery blend of cold and fear starting to make my hands tremble, and I silently prayed that I would not give myself away.

The duck inched cautiously toward my trap, and the selbinox waited patiently and courageously, his eyes never leaving the ducks enormous fangs. And then my worst fear was realized. As I mentioned previously, I had removed my left shoe before stepping into the clearing. While humans and selbinox do not typically prefer interaction with each other, there has been a vague communication between the two over the years. A human showing an exposed left foot is an accepted offering of peace to a selbinox. As I stood with bare left foot, I felt something cool and slimy start to move up my foot. I glanced down in horror, still standing stone-still. There, climbing up my foot toward the cuff of my pant, was a spinge. A spinge, if you haven't been to Gallix Pond before, is a slimy bug, similar to a centipede, but twice the size, and ten times as dangerous. If it bites, it is quite painful, and it does not let go. Ever. It latches onto you and stays until one of you perishes. Many people go mad within the first few days, as the pain overwhelms the mind. The spinge always looks for a safe, warm place in which to latch, so you can imagine my horror as I watched it slowly move up my foot, heading toward my shin.

I quickly deduced that I would rather move and be devoured quickly by the duck, then stand still and allow the spinge to do its nasty work. In a jerk movement, I pulled my foot up and swatted the spinge off of my foot, sending it flying into the air. The duck's head whipped around, and he screeched with anger at my newly realized presence. As he hurtled toward me, I heard the selbinox cry out, "Smittersmats!" and a powerful, blinding bolt of lightning shot from directly above the duck, pounding him into the ground. The giant duck squealed in pain as he hit the ground. He lay still, and I ran from where I was standing to the trap, and quickly unlocked it. The selbinox was exhausted from the enormous blast of magic, and he couldn't summon the energy to move. "You fool," he growled, between heaving breaths, "Why did you move? I hadn't nearly the time I needed to summon the magic necessary for such a huge beast. That duck will arise in a moment and devour us both. You...you can still escape. Go quickly! He is stirring as we speak!"

Surely enough, the dazed duck was coming to, and as his stupor faded, his anger was brewing. He eyed us from where he lay, temporarily paralyzed, and snarled with fierce hatred. "Go!" the selbinox hissed, "I haven't time to regain enough energy to recover from my spell! Save yourself, you imbecile!" My mind was a blur. I couldn't rightly bring myself to flee. After all, the selbinox had just saved my life, whereas I had doomed his. From the corner of my eye, I spied the irritated spinge writhing on the ground, not two feet from where the duck lay, still adjusting to his slowly returning strength. I stepped toward the duck, and he snapped his razor sharp fangs at me, viciously grinning as he watched my approach. "Fool! Run away from here!" the selbinox growled behind me. But it was too late. My mind was made.

In a quick movement, I jumped forward, and grabbed the spinge from where it lay, narrowly missing the vicious jaws of the duck, as it snapped again. Infuriated by his miss, he thrashed about on the ground, still lacking the last of his balance in order to right himself. My heart felt as though it would burst from my chest as I jumped onto the duck's back, and plunged the spinge into his right eye. What followed is difficult for me to remember. All that I am able to recall is hearing the duck cry out in the most agonizing, blood-curdling screech I have ever experienced, before he launched me off of his neck with a quick jerk of his giant head. Where I landed is hard to say, for total blackness engulfed me when I hit.

(more to come)