(Continued from Ducky's Wild West Adventure - Part 3)

...Even Ducky's two-handed parry could not hope to stop the powerful swing of the much fatter man. His grape-flavored lightsaber was knocked quickly from his webbed grasp and landed out of reach. Desperately he tried with all his telekinesis to use the Force to float it back to him. Then he remembered he didn't have any stupid shit inside his cells that let you do magic and ruined Star Wars. "Fuck you, Episode I," he mustered indubitably.

He ran over to his fallen blade the old-fashioned way, then. But he didn't ran faster enough, as Ropin' Ross was quickly in between them.

"Looks like you hogtied the caboose, boy," Ross sublimed. Ducky thought fast, but before he could take another turn the yellowish blade flashed in front of him. And also through him.

Ducky was neatly severed as no duck had been before or since. His eyes strolled down to his hips, sitting a foot away from their usual place, and he frowned.

He didn't need this shit today.

(Fun fact: Ropin' Ross never fools around when it comes to metaphors, not even on April 1st.)