Duckies at sea

The "Good Ship Lollipop" wasn't your typical cruise liner. Sure, it had the midnight buffet and the shuffleboard, but its main attraction was the Great Rubber Duck Race. Thousands of bright yellow bath toys, each "sponsored" by a passenger, would be dumped overboard near the Bahamas, with the first to drift back to the ship winning its owner a small fortune. Agnes Plumtree, a retired librarian with a mischievous glint in her eye, clutched her duck, "Admiral Quackers," a veteran of three previous races, none of which he'd even placed in the top hundred. "This is our year, Admiral," she muttered, smoothing a tiny, hand-knitted scarf around his neck. The day of the race dawned bright and breezy. Agnes stood at the railing, the salty spray misting her face. Below, the ocean churned, a vast, indifferent blue. A booming voice announced, "Release the ducks!" A cascade of yellow bobbed on the waves. Agnes held her breath, searching for Admiral Quackers amongst the throng. There! His scarf was unmistakable. He was near the front, battling valiantly against a particularly persistent wave. For the next few hours, Agnes was glued to the railing, binoculars in hand. The ducks were strung out, some caught in eddies, others making steady progress. To Agnes's amazement, Admiral Quackers was holding his own. He was in the top ten! Suddenly, disaster. A rogue wave, larger than the rest, crashed down, scattering the ducks like confetti. Agnes lost sight of Admiral Quackers. Her heart sank. She'd come to believe, foolishly perhaps, that this silly race held some larger meaning, that Admiral Quackers's victory would somehow validate her own quiet, unassuming life. Dejected, she turned to leave, but then, a gasp from the crowd. A single duck, battered but unbowed, was nearing the finish line. It was Admiral Quackers! He'd somehow navigated the chaos and emerged victorious. The crowd erupted. Agnes, tears streaming down her face, pushed her way to the front. As a crew member plucked Admiral Quackers from the water, Agnes reached out and scooped him into her arms. That night, at the winner's ceremony, Agnes accepted her prize, a comically large check. But the money didn't matter. As she clutched Admiral Quackers, the little yellow duck felt warm and solid in her hand. He wasn't just a bath toy. He was a symbol of resilience, of perseverance, of the unexpected victories that life sometimes offers, even to retired librarians with a soft spot for rubber ducks. And as the "Good Ship Lollipop" sailed on into the sunset, Agnes knew, with absolute certainty, that next year, Admiral Quackers would be back.