Her smile warms. “I do. Thank you.”
I nod, glancing beyond her at the little cluster of mallard ducks. On impulse, I take the top piece of bread off my sandwich and start ripping off a couple chunks. I throw the first piece, then Laurel looks back, noticing the ducks.
“Don’t feed them,” she says.
That surprises me. I would have taken Laurel for a girl who got a kick out of feeding the ducks. Looking back at her, I ask, “Why not?”
“Because ducks are assholes. I mean, also because you’re not supposed to feed wildlife, but mainly because ducks are assholes.”
I cock an eyebrow, but I stop picking my bread apart. “Those cute little mallards, right there? Assholes?”
Nodding firmly, she says, “Bunch of gang rapists. If you’re going to feed them, only feed the females. Let the males starve.”
I sputter, taken off guard by her accusation. “What the hell are you talking about?”
Her eyes widen at my skepticism. “Don’t you know about the secret life of ducks? They’re rotten bastards. The male ducks, anyway.” Seeing I’m completely clueless, she sighs and curls her legs to the side, getting more comfortable so she can impart a lesson. “Okay, so, there are a lot more male ducks than female ducks, and because of that, females can afford to be very selective with their choice of mates. You have to really wow them, otherwise just forget about it. It’s a good thing, but these lazy asshole male ducks can’t be bothered to step up their game and impress the ladies. Oh, no. Some of them decide, hey, you know what’s easier? Rape.”
“Are we really talking about duck rape over a picnic lunch?”
“Yes,” she says, firmly in teacher mode. “So, the asshole ducks accost the women, even if they already have a mate and ducklings, and they’re violent about it. They’ll push her under water if they get her in the pond. They’ll chase her around on dry land, pecking her into submission, trying to mount her with their stupid duck penises.” Pausing, she holds up a finger. “As an aside, ducks are also well-endowed, for avian creatures.”
I shake my head, grabbing the spoon and scooping some grapes onto my plate. “Thank God I know that now.”
“You’re welcome. So, yeah, duck rape is an epidemic. And sometimes it’s just one rogue bastard who accosts the lady duck, and in that case she has a better chance of survival, but sometimes the male ducks attack in gangs. They brutalize these poor lady ducks, sometimes even killing them in the midst of the attack.”
This is the strangest date I have ever been on.
Laurel continues. “As a consequence of this, duck vaginas have evolved and become quite complex, as nature tries to correct this situation and make it harder and harder for the egg to be fertilized in a forceful attack. Some species of lady ducks have secret pouches to catch unwanted sperm and, like… almost, like, vagina teeth.”
“I don’t understand why you know any of this,” I tell her.
Shrugging nonchalantly, she opens the lid on the watermelon container. “I read about it in a book, and then I was like ‘what the fuck is this shit?’ so I researched it more online. Yale did a study and everything. It’s crazy shit. I could show you a video on your phone.”
“You want me to watch a duck snuff film while we eat?” I ask. “And I thought I was hardcore.”
“Not a snuff film, but people have filmed examples of it in nature. I’m just saying, if you don’t believe me, I can show you.”
“You watch weird porn,” I inform her.
Laurel smiles, rolling her eyes at me. “Don’t be gross. It’s not explicit.”
I shake my head at her. “You’re a fascinating little nerd, kitten.”
She picks up a grape and rolls it between her fingers. “It’s a real problem. I can’t sit by and let you nourish rapists.”
“We probably shouldn’t host my family for the holidays, then,” I tell her, dryly.
Eyebrows rising, she meets my gaze. “Huh?”
I shake my head, watching her pop the grape into her mouth. “Nothing, never mind.”
After taking a sip of her water, Laurel tells me, “We should have discussed this before we went to the bookstore; I could’ve looked for that one book I read. It’s called The Evolution of Beauty. There’s a whole chapter on duck sex.”
“I’ll make sure I order myself a copy as soon as I get home,” I assure.
Laurel nods her approval as she takes a quartered strawberry between her fingers and brings it to those plump lips of her. “See that you do. Your library needs it.”
Fuck, I can’t concentrate on anything right now except the sudden, overwhelming fantasy of her being a professor. I want to bend her over her desk and fuck her, holding that messy bun like the horn of a saddle. “Do you have glasses?”