Stop Me If You’ve Heard This One Before: “A Duck Walks Into A Bar”
"Duck walks into pub, downs pint, fights dog"
NZ Herald 2017, Duck in Pub, NZ Herald, accessed 19 January 2022
Story: “A Duck Walks Into A Bar”
Slight spoiler: this story isn’t humorous. What it is, though, is a feel-good story about a mom, her autistic son, and a classic joke that’ll bring you to tears by the story’s end.
You know, it’s almost a trope the way a literary short story yearns for darkness, for the worst kind of behavior from its characters and the world they live in. Cheating spouses. Cancer. Death. Even sudden revelations of past events that unravel a character’s present. Often, too, we’re shown that characters behaving poorly or cruelly under the stress of the thumbscrew of that darkness is presented as a hallmark of a high-minded and well-crafted narrative, so much so that we forget the joy of small, patient moments. “A Duck Walks into a Bar” by Joshua Bohnsack and published online at AGNI is one of those lighter, small moments of joy that present a rewarding exception to that literary trope.
My son is trying to write a joke. He thinks this will help him make friends and let people know he’s friendly. He wants me to tell him if the jokes are funny. He doesn’t know whether I am being sincere most of the time, so he asks me to clarify.
He says, “Mommy. What does the scarecrow say to the pigeon?”
I tell him I don’t know.
“‘Just leave me alone.’”
I tell him I don’t think that’s a funny joke.
“What if I make it a mommy scarecrow? Will you like it then?”
He thinks if it relates to me, I will like it better. “I don’t think that’s quite it, honey.”
— ”A Duck Walks into a Bar”
Joshua Bohnsack
AGNI online, June 16th, 2021
The plot is simple and, because of the simplicity, it allows for a great deal of emotion to unfold within the tightly-packed scene that the story is made of: the narrator, driving her son to his father’s home, listens to a joke he wants to tell kids at school and then, after suggesting it’s not very good, she tries to help by telling him a widely familiar and better joke about a duck walking into a bar. Like a good comedian, the story doesn’t miss its beats, allowing plot complications to rise to the surface when they make sense, complications like the circumstances of the mother and her son’s life, the nuances of her ex-husband’s influence on their son, and the mother’s tight budget. Even the home she lost in the separation and her ex’s new, young, religious girlfriend make their brief, but important, appearances.
These stresses rear their ugliness just when they ought and present the plot with an opportunity for the narrator to become darkly literary, to behave badly in a different version of this story where she allows the stress and frustration of her life to explode outward. Instead, she persists patiently with her son and these moments fortify her as a good mother, and endear us more and more to her and her son. This, of course, is because of her deep love for her son, who is autistic (or on the autism spectrum), and his need for patience from her to understand what is and is not a “good” joke.
It’s worth noting that hHer son’s autism isn’t ever presented as an obstacle or something wished out of existence; it’s never a burden to her. Instead, she fully embraces her son for who he is, and what he needs, and together they create the opportunity for them both to bond through the act of telling their jokes to each other, and for the story to show us this moment which grows and expands well beyond the confines this short narrative should otherwise be capable of containing.
I imagine my son sitting in church with his bored, horny father and Kaitlyn. I imagine him staring at the crucified Jesus, with the blood running from the spear wound between his ribs.
“So. The crow flies away, and then comes back and asks for bread,” [my son says.]
“Does the crow get bread this time?”
“No, he takes the scarecrow’s hair.”
“He takes his hair?” I act appalled.
“Yes. The crow takes the scarecrow’s hair and builds a nest for her babies.”
“Oh, it’s a mommy crow?” I ask.
He nods. “Yes, I made it a mommy crow for you.”
— ”A Duck Walks into a Bar”
Joshua Bohnsack
AGNI online, June 16th, 2021
“A Duck Walks into a Bar” is one of those stories where we might expect frustration from a mother stretched thin, and justifiably so. She, a woman who appears to have lost more in her divorce than her ex, who is painfully aware of prices, and that new things, even necessary things, will have to wait. Instead, we’re presented with the opposite. Here, a mother rising to meet a challenge with a steady heart, ready and willing to anticipate her son’s questions about her own joke’s authenticity – “Duck’s eat crackers?”, “There’s just one bartender who works there?”, “Why does [the duck] want staples now?” – as she walks him through it line by line in what ends up being the best and most lovingly patient explication of a common joke about a duck walking into a bar that you’ll find on the internet. And it’s in this slow and patient explanation that something truly special rises off the page.
Two Cocktails:
Quackers & Juice
“So, a duck walks into a bar, and he asks the bartender, ‘Got any crackers?’”
“Ducks eat crackers?” He pulls at the buckles on his car seat. The seat is a little too snug. I should get him a new one, but he’ll just grow out of it and need a booster seat. It adds up.
“Do you remember when we fed the ducks at Riverside Park?” I say, referring to a time when ambulance sirens sped by and my son scratched in the mud until his fingers bled.
He makes eye contact through the rearview mirror, which I take as affirmation.
“I guess crackers are a type of bread that this duck likes. It’s not really important to the joke. The point is, the duck asks the bartender if he has any crackers. The bartender says, ‘We don’t have any crackers, man.’”
— ”A Duck Walks into a Bar”
Joshua Bohnsack
AGNI online, June 16th, 2021
Okay, bare with me here. There wasn’t a lot of cocktail-esque stuff to go with in this story but I wanted to create something unique that pulled from a shared memory the two shared, and because I enjoyed this story so much. So I imagined this cocktail with two distinct builds, one anyone should be able to pull off with some simple, inexpensive ingredients, and the other a little more involved and with some less common ingredients. They’re both riffs on a Garibaldi, though, which is a cocktail traditionally made of only two things, Campari and “fluffy” orange juice.
For both of these builds I imagine that the narrator finds that some of her son’s snacks (Goldfish Crackers, of course) have somehow wound up in her one and only bottle of gin which she keeps for, well, when the stress is too real and mommy needs a little wind-down. How does that happen? Look, kids are weird and they do things and, well, it’s too late now. Money’s tight, though, so nothing goes to waste, and there’s not much to mix the gin with except for her son’s apple juice, which she always has on hand to go along with his Goldfish, so, you know what? She makes due.
(Casual) Quakers & Juice
1oz Goldfish-Infused Gin*
1oz Dry Vermouth
0.75oz Lemon Juice
4oz Apple Juice
Add all of the ingredients together in a shaker without ice and shake vigorously for 45-60 seconds. This will aerate the apple and lemon juice which will lead to that frothy, pillowy foam.
Pour over an ice cube (or many ice cubes) and garnish with a slice of apple and some nutmeg (totally optional).
*Goldfish-Infused Gin: Combine 4oz (1/2c) of your favorite gin with 25g (roughly 1/4c) of Goldfish Crackers. Let infuse for 2 hours, then strain the gin and press the Goldfish to extract all the gin goodness, then pass through a coffee filter to remove any leftover fish pieces.
(Less Casual) Quakers & Juice
1oz Goldfish-Infused Gin
1oz Granny Smith-Infused Dry Vermouth**
0.75oz Lemon Juice
0.25oz Salers Aperitif
3oz Apple Juice
(Optional) Top with Sparkling Apple Juice, about 2oz
Add all of the ingredients (except sparkling apple juice) together in a shaker without ice and shake vigorously for 45-60 seconds.
Pour over an ice spear and garnish with an apple fan and some nutmeg.
Gently top with the sparkling apple juice so as not to deflate the foam (optional).
**Granny Smith-Infused Dry Vermouth: Combine 5oz (1/2c + 2Tbs) of dry vermouth with 50g (roughly 1/4c packed) of diced Granny Smith apple pieces with the skin on in a sealable container, like a small mason jar. Place the jar in a Tupperware and place the Tupperware in your sink, then run hot tap water over it until it’s submerged in hot water. Repeat this process, replacing the water, every 15 minutes for an hour. (Alternately, sous vide at 140f for an hour.) Remove from the water afterwards and allow to cool to room temperature, about 4 hours, then strain through a coffee filter and eat the vermouth apple pieces on a charcuterie board or with Goldfish crackers.