Bath Time's Over

I strutted past my pallet hideout and headed straight down the sidewalk to the corner storm drain. Wedged tight between two thick cast-iron grate bars was an abandoned yellow rubber duck, caked in street grime. A polite little boy loves bubbly bath time with cuddly floaties, right? Don't make me laugh, pal! I dropped onto my knees, grabbed that duck by its neck with both plastic hands, and yanked it free with a wet squelch. Reaching into my pocket, I popped my trusty silver penknife out with a slick click and carved a wicked frown right over its orange beak. *SQUEEE-GASP!* I stomped my sneaker heel right into its rubber ribs, making it wheeze like a siren. Look who's on sidewalk patrol now, pal!