Wednesday, April 11, 2012
Easter – a time where most families gather around a sugar-cured ham, and various mouthwatering foods to share some wine and discuss what the hell to do with the 8 million dyed, hard-boiled eggs. In my family, we have another tradition. The traditional Duck Farts.
What is a Duck Fart? Well, it’s Bailey’s, Kahlua and whiskey (because clearly, there’s not enough whiskey in Bailey’s) mixed in a bottle you’d put catsup or mustard in. Then, it’s squirted into the straw-like ass of a plastic duck and consumed with a toast in a single shot.
I know, sounds classy, right? The whole tradition started at a bar here in our hometown. We went with Mom, Uncle Steve, Mr. Assassin, Jenny and whoever Jenny was with at the time. After downing a round, Mom and Steve left. Because you could keep the ducks after you sucked chocolate-flavored whiskey out of their ass – Jenny and I proceeded to drink enough to have one (okay, three) for everyone. In the middle of the night, more than a bit tipsy, we left the whole pile on Mom’s doorstep, rang the doorbell and ran like hell.
The next weekend was Easter – and Uncle Steve made sure we all had (many, many) Duck Farts and a beloved tradition was born. We have since added Christmas to the holiday roster – but hell, we’re Scots-Irish, so anytime we get together the Duck Farts seem to come out. And the rule is, you can’t turn down a Duck Fart.
As the evening (and quantity of Duck Farts) progresses, I must admit that the required toasts get more interesting/garbled/obscene. The first toast is always the same, “Be careful driving because it’s Easter and all the drunks are out!” This is something my mom once said to me and Mr. Assassin (who was then just Boyfriend Assassin) on Easter Sunday. I always imagined a bunch of rednecks in pickup trucks, holding their PBR cans out the window screaming, “He is RISEN! Woo HOO!”
The kids get chocolate milk in theirs – but I do wonder that sometimes Uncle Steve forgets which ones belong to the kids. But they sleep really soundly on those nights – so I never ask.
My mission is to make the Duck Fart a staple of American Easters. Now all I have to do is find out where we can buy them by the gross.
Who’s with me?
The Assassin