Couldn't believe my luck.
I was in the duck shop, looking at a couple of homing mallards (you know, the second revision ROMS with 17 downloadable quacks and built in cell phone to call you at 4am in the morning when they're lost and ask you where the hell they are with a:
>riiing< >ring< >riiing< >ring<
You: "Unh, hello?" Them: "QUAAAAAAAAACK? QUACK QUACK QUACK QUAAAAACK QUACK?" You: "How the hell would I know, it's 4am!" Them: "Quack." You: "Yeah, it's ok for you, but I've got to work in the morning!" Them: "Quack. QUACK quack quack quark quack." You: "Oh. Did you get me one as well?" Them: "Quack" You: "Cool. Well where are you?" Them: "QUACK QUACK QUAAAAACK QUACK. Quack" You: "Shit, that sounds like the East Side!. Catch the `West-Side' train and call me from the station" Them: "Quack" You: "Don't mention it" )
Anyway, so I look up from the homing mallards and I saw this guy checking out some decoys. Sick bastard.
Of course he's pretending he can't tell a real Teal from a fake one because they're so similar but I know what's really going on. It's obviously some form of eggo pervert you read about in the tabloids.
I slip my magnum magnum out of it's holster and lay it on the counter, indicating with my eys the guy with the fakes. The guy behind the counter nods almost imperceptibly, closes the register drawer and disappears out back. Cocking the gun with a hearty >snick-click< I turn to discover that plasto-man has hit the dirt. I blow the fake duck away anyway just to show him that I'm playing hardball and am not about to risk losing by using my hands. Surprisingly enough, it wasn't a fake, and flesh and feathers fly in all directions as I down barrel a couple more looking for the real fake.
Got it! Sure enough, across the other side of the room there's a plastic one. Plasto man's made it to the door, but this is one exit stage left that he'll be missing out on.
I realise I'm out of shells with a >snap< of the gun's self confession but I'm not about to be written into a corner. I reach behind the counter, and sure enough there's a pump action triple-barrel elephant-hater there, with what looks like a full payload. I lever up and follow Plasto outside, in time to see his car leave the scene, tyres squealing.
Like I didn't expect this.
I put out an APD with the duck patrol and jump in my buick and head to the previous episode.