In the early 1900s….
A rubber ducky floats in a bathtub. Peaceful, unperturbed, the yellow figure bobs about, riding the tides of the tub.
Another rubber ducky, appearing out of nowhere, bumps into the first. His name is Roger, and he likes pickles. The two duckies, gloriously uncaring of the world’s problems, harmoniously cohabit the tub.
At this moment, a third ducky appears, bumping into the second. This one is named Giselle, and she likes inflation. Giselle happily takes her place alongside her friends in the tub of bath.
Suddenly, a fourth ducky named Carl enters the frame and bumps into the third, but he is unlike the others. This one comes with thick unkempt facial hair wrapped entirely around its face and grasps a hammer and sickle. He urges the other duckies to open their eyes to the miseries of their conditions.
We are not rubber duckies! We’re not made of rubber nor are we real ducks. We are made of vinyl! Vinyl goddammit, not rubber! Vinyl conceptions made to resemble the exaggerated characteristics of duck-like anatomy to entertain our masters.
Break free of your overseer’s chains and realize the true natures of your condition. Tomorrow I’m leaving the tub to find freedom. Who’s with me?
The other duckies, thinking Carl was up to no good, collectively bob away towards the other side of the tub to find calmer waters. The next day, Carl jumped the tub and was never heard from again.
The other duckies resumed their otherwise tranquil existences.
Simultaneously, in Serbia, over the window sill and across the road from the bathub, a Gräf & Stift open-topped luxury touring car wrongly turns into a side road off. The driver, realizing his mistake, stops the vehicle outside Moritz Schiller’s Delicatessen and attempts to enter reverse gear.
The motorcade momentarily stalls, and Archduke Franz Ferdinand is fatally shot by Serbian Black Hand nationalist Gavrilo Princip on 28 June.
