I shot a dogre out of the blue sky. With its wing blown off, it swam in circles for a very long time before I rowed out and plucked it from the water. When I got back to the wharf, I cradled the little dogre in my arms. It had a black head and blacker eyes. It had a white ring around its bill. It was not a handsome duck, but for a moment, it captured my sympathy. It looked sad, liquid death drained from its eyes. You look sad, said I to the little duck. It replied, I am a dying baby, why don't you kill me? I said, I am a one armed man, why don't you kill me! It said, I am a one winged duck, why don't you kill me first then kill yourself? I told the dogre that I did not want to die, but that I would be happy to do it in if that's really what it wanted. The little duck said that it very much wanted to die. I tied a brick to the dogre's tail and threw it overboard into the green water. From above, I could see it flapping its only wing and the dogre grew sadder and sadder as it sank. I could read its lips, it said, fuck you before it died. I said to myself that god was a duck and I drew out my shotgun to shoot some more.