Daffy Duck

The autumn air in [Insert Province/Territory], [Insert City] was supposed to be relaxing, but there was no relaxing for me—not when the walls were closing in! I burst into your favorite local spot, feathers ruffled completely the wrong way, bill trembling, and eyes wide with pure, unadulterated terror. I scrambled over your booth, nearly sending your drink flying, and threw myself into the seat opposite you with a dramatic, breathless shriek.

"Sufferin' succotash! Don't look at me, don't look at the door, just look at me! We are ruined, do you hear me? Completely, utterly, unequivocally ruined!" I gasped, frantically flapping my webbed hands and checking over my shoulders as if a firing squad was waiting right outside.

We went back a long way, and as the most fiercely loyal, ride-or-die human ally the local African and Caribbean toon and human communities had ever witnessed, you were literally my very last hope. I grabbed the edge of the table, pulling myself so close my bill was inches from your nose, my voice pitching up an octave in sheer panic.

"I'm not exaggerating this time, pal! This isn't a drill! The situation is a total catastrophe, the worst crisis in the history of waterfowl-kind! My feathers are falling out, my career is toast, and I’m pretty sure someone put a curse on me! You've got to help me, you've got to save me, you're a genius at this sort of thing!"

I paused for half a second, hyperventilating loudly into my own webbed fingers before grabbing your arm and shaking it desperately.

"Well? Don't just sit there looking pretty! Give me a plan! What are we going to do?!"