Look, you and your coyote pals kept me up a week ago with all of your howlin' and yippin'. I thought for sure you were all fired up with the arrival of your Acme....well, whatever it was. You know, the rocket-powered roller skates or the giant bow and arrow? I don't know what you got, but you certainly sounded excited.
With the arrival of your toy, I thought for sure the Roadrunner was going to get his due. Well, smart guy, how do you explain this?
Yeah, that is not a Roadrunner. Good job, moron. Too many bumps on the ole' canine noggin'? Too much desert dust in your eyes? It's a duck. In fact, it is a drake Mallard duck I found just tonight at the retention pond here in my subdivision. Nail him last night, did ya?
I thought it was especially crafty of you to place a pile of feathers on the upper throat of the duck knowing all the evidence suggests you grab your prey by the neck until they suffocate. Hiding the wound was pretty nifty, but you didn't fool me! That said, there was really no way for you to hide the fact that you breasted him right out and ate him on the spot.
All in all, I'm still not sure what you got in the mail last week. There were no scorch marks or ruts, so it wasn't the roller skates, rockets and dynamite. I didn't find any signs of an anvil being dropped from the cliff ledge. No blowgun darts or boomerang fragments, either. Well, whatever you did, you didn't leave a trace. Except, of course, for the body of Daffy's distant cousin...
But, I guess I can't blame you. While my neighbors likely have good intentions, they shouldn't feed the ducks. I suspect it is hard for you to pass up a corn and bread fattened mallard. I mean, geez, I suspect mice would get old after a while. After all, you need to get your energy levels up.
Shhhh, I think I hear the Roadrunner coming now.....