A Lucky Charm or “Bad Poetry”

I once had a charm named Sid.

Who quacked everywhere I did.

Until one wet day,

Sid flew far away.

He did not bat an eyelid.

Those of us who are not Irish should not try to write bad limericks! But since most existing limericks are bawdy, I decided to write my own instead.

Most people have had a good luck charm at some time in their lives. My lucky charm came from my sister 20 years ago. Sid was a true British duck, tough, green as spun glass, and determined to influence my life for the better. And he did just that. Quite a few good things came my way and he took full credit for them, even when I was doubtful.

With his yellow bill and bright red dot on the side of it, Sid’s white eyes with the blue centers kept sleepy watch over his usually dark realm in the smallest, zippered compartment in my handbag.

It isn’t that Sid wasn’t allowed out to play with others or take in the fresh air. But I was mortally afraid of losing him. He was that cute and different and as un-American as could be.

Anyone who saw Sid got a gleam in her eye. Each one of those ladies licked her lips in anticipation of the good fortune tiny Sid would bring her. If she dared look me in the eye, I saw dollar bills dancing in hers. No, I’m not sharing him! He’s mine. Get your own lucky charm.

What’s that you say? Well, he came from England. Flew over, you know. No, I don’t know where in England. Of course, I can’t ask my sister. It would be terribly rude of me to ask if she got Sid at a flea market instead of a posh jewellery store, now, wouldn’t it?

Once in a while, I forgot to zip that innermost compartment in my handbag. Then Sid got quite adventurous, striking up conversations with the folded hairbrush, the sugarless gum, and the empty checkbook. Visiting yogurt shop receipts and strange telephone numbers got him madly excited. He racked up a lot of waddles those days, storing the adventures in that miniature see-through brain of his.

Sometimes, I think Sid was hatching his own escape plan all along, rather than waiting to be snatched away by a lurking, potential Midas. The day I discovered he was gone was one for the drama queens! Oh, the empty place and I still haven’t told my sister he left.

There was a sighting of Sid flying west by southwest, which would have taken him to a more tropical clime. Sadly, his built-in British thermostat may not have adapted easily. But I hope whoever took him home has had some fondest wishes fulfilled, assuming they weren’t cursed for theft, of course.

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