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The Big Game

By , Sacramento, CA

It was the championship football game. And we were losing. By a lot.
We had been undefeated all season. No one could fully grasp how we, the almighty El Dorado Eagles, could be losing by so much.
We were fighting against the Davis Ducks, a team we had defeated with ease just a few weeks prior.
Something was up. Something was fishy.
I noticed our adversary, who somehow became extremely good in an extremely short amount of time, was exactly the same in every aspect except for one; the quarterback.
The quarterback was new and, quite frankly, extremely good. Too good. I deduced he was the reason we were losing. The quarterback dodged oncoming linemen with ease. He ran extremely fast, so fast it seemed as though he was floating across the field. He could run, throw, and dodge, all at the same time, and he chased done the end zone with an animal-like ferocity.
He was amazing. But rather small. Fragile.
I knew if I wanted my team to win, I had to take this man out.
I had to tackle him.
Flashforward to the next play.
A whistle blew.
It was time.
I charged directly toward the quarterback, hitting him hard with my shoulder.
A direct hit.
A hit so hard, in fact, I heard a loud “cracking” sound.
My pride immediately turned to horror.
I feared for the frail quarterback’s life, terrified that my immense frame shattered the his feeble build.
But suddenly, a sea of feathers began to fall over me.
I looked at the man’s jersey to discover an army of ducks flying out from under it.
I realized I didn’t hear a cracking sound.
I heard a quacking sound.
And I realized that this whole time, the quarterback wasn’t a student at all.
Instead, it was just a team of coordinated ducks pretending to be a high school student, hiding in the jersey, and playing an extremely well offensive game.
The situation was exactly as I suspected all along; fowl play.






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