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Mrs Pockett was swimming with all her might, but it wasn't good enough. Lady Lilly was pulling ahead.
"Faster, darling, faster!" Mr Pockett shouted.
"I can taste your 50-year old whisky now, Mr Pockett!" Mr Harrington called from across the water.
"Catch up, damn you! Swim, you ninny!" Mr Gillroy bawled at his Gilly. Poor Gilly splashed more frantically, but it was no use - it was really down to Lady Lilly and Mrs Pockett.
The men kept shouting, calling names, and otherwise being useless. The two final ladies were desperately exchanging first place, the water churning wildly around them.
"Oh it will be close!" the judge said excitedly.
" You've got it, my dear!" Mr Pockett shouted between his cupped hands.
Mrs Pockett paddled ahead again and --
There was mixture of howling and cheering as the finish line was cleared.
"Mrs Pockett is the winner!" the judge announced.
Mr Pockett leaned down to the water and scooped Mrs Pockett into his arms.
"Wonderful my dear, truly wonderful! We will dine like royalty tonight, at Mr Harrington's expense!" Mr Pockett said as he hugged her.
"The Annual Gentlemen's Duck Race has concluded!" the judge said. "Marvelous race, near record times! Congratulations to all contestants!"
Mrs Pockett quacked with pleasure as Mr Pockett stroked her head.
"Faster, darling, faster!" Mr Pockett shouted.
"I can taste your 50-year old whisky now, Mr Pockett!" Mr Harrington called from across the water.
"Catch up, damn you! Swim, you ninny!" Mr Gillroy bawled at his Gilly. Poor Gilly splashed more frantically, but it was no use - it was really down to Lady Lilly and Mrs Pockett.
The men kept shouting, calling names, and otherwise being useless. The two final ladies were desperately exchanging first place, the water churning wildly around them.
"Oh it will be close!" the judge said excitedly.
" You've got it, my dear!" Mr Pockett shouted between his cupped hands.
Mrs Pockett paddled ahead again and --
There was mixture of howling and cheering as the finish line was cleared.
"Mrs Pockett is the winner!" the judge announced.
Mr Pockett leaned down to the water and scooped Mrs Pockett into his arms.
"Wonderful my dear, truly wonderful! We will dine like royalty tonight, at Mr Harrington's expense!" Mr Pockett said as he hugged her.
"The Annual Gentlemen's Duck Race has concluded!" the judge said. "Marvelous race, near record times! Congratulations to all contestants!"
Mrs Pockett quacked with pleasure as Mr Pockett stroked her head.
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High fantasy: The type of fantasy that you have when you are high! Of course, this definition is figurative, not literal. High fantasy is so rich in fantasy elements that not everyone finds it to their taste.
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Man, those guys really love their ducks.
Flash Fiction Month, Day 4.
Flash Fiction Month, Day 4.
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Lol---I love that it was a duck race, I didn't expect it. My favorite part: "I can taste your 50-year old whisky now, Mr Pockett!" Mr Harrington called from across the water.
"Catch up, damn you! Swim, you ninny!" Mr Gillroy bawled at his Gilly. Poor Gilly splashed more frantically, but it was no use - it was really down to Lady Lilly and Mrs Pockett.
"Catch up, damn you! Swim, you ninny!" Mr Gillroy bawled at his Gilly. Poor Gilly splashed more frantically, but it was no use - it was really down to Lady Lilly and Mrs Pockett.