The Ugly Duckling

A Retelling of Hans Christian Anderson's "The Ugly Duckling"
Based on the voice of Holden from "Catcher in the Rye"
Final Draft

I suppose you want to hear about my goddam 'younger brother'. That's no surprise – that's what everyone wants to hear about. It's never, "Oh, how are you doing?" It's always, "How's your brother faring?" Just because he looks different, he gets all the limelight. It's annoying, to tell the truth. But you're the first to ask today, so I suppose I can spill a bit of the story.

Anyway, we were all born on the banks of a river. It was one of those usual crumby scenes, with the reeds and the sun and the water, with everyone chirping and peeping and stuff like that.
And there my mom was, waiting for all of us to hatch. I can't imagine it was comfortable or fun and stuff. According to her, the day we all hatched was the prettiest day of the year. You can just imagine what sort of relief it must've been, until she saw the last stupid egg with my stupid little brother inside.

After she had fretted over the huge egg, our grandma came over and told her to give up, like any sensible duck should. But our mom, having the soft heart she does, insisted on waiting a few more days. I mean, really, she may have been sitting for a few goddam years, and she wanted to wait even longer? I can't believe it myself, to tell you the truth. So she waited, and at last my stupid brother finally got the guts to come out of his shell. I remember playing 'round the reeds at the time, since Mom wouldn't let us go out into deeper waters yet, and turning around and seeing that goddam bird. He was huge compared to the rest of us, and his feathers were this crumby grey color. It was the ugliest thing I had ever seen. I really mean it. It really was the goddam ugliest thing on the lake.

Since he looked so different from the rest of us, my mom decided to see if he could swim. Y'know, to see if he was a duck or not. She got all of us in the water and swam all prettily like she always did, and all of us followed her lead. When I say, "All of us," I mean, "All of us." That stupid grey bird followed us in and swam like the rest of us normal ducklings, as if he was trying to fit in or something. I wonder if he realized he looked like an idiot.

My mom thought it was the coolest thing ever. The stupid one swimming, that is. So she decided to take us around the crumby pond and show us off to everyone, but to be wary of the cat and all that stuff. For us, the normal ducklings, it was a great idea. I really mean it, it was. What would be better than meeting everyone and showing off? But for the stupid one… well, I doubt his goddam day could've gotten any worse.

The first crumby thing we saw were two families fighting over a goddam eel's head that was carried off by that stupid cat my mom mentioned. She said that was how the world worked, and we could all tell she wanted something to eat as well. I felt really bad for her then, I really did. I mean, she could be off getting something to eat, but instead she had to watch over her children. Anyway, then she spotted a fancy looking duck with a stupid red thing tied around her foot, and told us to behave…. Something about her having Spanish blood and being well off and all that stuff. It was an easy task for the rest of us, but the stupid one? The stupid one had some problems.

"Quack!" I called in my best manners as we swam past, my head bent and feet apart in the way my mom told us to. Since it was for her, I didn't really mind, but boy, was it annoying. Though I guess it couldn't even compare to how the stupid one was treated. I guess he was nodding his head and swimming like my mom said, but since he was so goddam ugly, the fancy duck didn't like him much.

"The others are so well bred! But look at that queer looking one at the end! We don't want the likes of him here," a rather phony looking duck sneered, and the stupid one lowered his head. I couldn't imagine why he said something like that. I mean, yeah, he was pretty crumby looking, but that didn't mean we wanted him completely gone. After that goddam comment, another bird flew out from nowhere and bit the stupid one on the neck. The whole thing didn't really bother me… that is, until my mom started fretting.

"Leave him alone!" she cried, "He's not doing any harm!"

"But look at him! He's such a disgrace," spat the violent duck, "and must be disposed of."

"The others are such pretty children," said the old Spanish hag, "but that one… I wish you could improve him a bit."

"I'm sorry, your grace," I hadn't a clue as to why my mom referred to that old duck like that, but she continued, "He's not as pretty as the others, but perhaps it's because he stayed in the egg too long. I hope that when he grows older, he'll become just as nice looking as the others, and perhaps become smaller too. It is a drake, after all, so he'll surely to grow up to be strong."

The other ducks had my blood boiling for some reason, but my mom's response made me choke on laughter. I really mean it – sure, the stupid one was a boy and all, but that didn't mean he was going to grow up and be strong. While his dashing looks weren't all that important, he'd probably grow up and look exactly the same and would never be able to find a mate. That's how I saw it, at least.

While the old Spanish duck with the rag on her leg bid us farewell, it wasn't the end of the stupid one's teasing. It just got worse after that. He was picked on by all the goddam poultry and ducks in the area, and they all complained that he was too goddam big and ugly. I have to admit, even I said that I wished the cat would get him, and since it was such a crumby day for my mom she said she wished she had never let him hatch. Eventually, he ran away. My mom was a little worried after we couldn't find him, but said that it was probably for the better.

I'm not sure where he went. But rumor has it he went all the way to the large moor on the other side of the fence – a goddam far way for a kid. The ducks supposedly let him stay as long as he didn't mate, which was unlikely anyway, so he stayed in the crumby place for a few days. They say that a few goddam hunters came and started shooting at anything that moved, but the stupid one was so ugly that no one wanted to shoot at him anyway.

After that, they say he went to the old blind woman's cottage with the tom cat and the hen, and he was picked on there, too. It must've been a goddam crumby place, but at least he had a place to stay. At some point he left there and settled himself somewhere on the lake 'till autumn passed and winter came. It's said it got so goddam cold and he was such an idiot that he stayed on the lake until it froze over and he had to be rescued by some crumby peasant. We, of course, were safely far south in the warmth and comfort of our mates, getting ready to lay some eggs of our own, as normal ducklings do.

The rest of the crumby story is thought to be a sort of fiction dreamed up by my old mom, but it really is true. After that winter I saw the stupid one with my own eyes, and had it not been for his distinct way of quacking, I really have to say that I wouldn't' have recognized him at all. He had found his way to a crumby old moor and was fed daily by a few goddam children who enjoyed pitching breadcrumbs at them.

He had grown up into a goddam swan.

That ugly stupid thing turned into a swan. I was wary to approach him at first, but he forgave me. The goddam kid forgave me, as if everything that happened to him could be fixed with a phony apology. I was one of the bastards that put him through hell, but he still came out a freaking angel. I don't know what kind of screwed up logic that is, but it's what honestly happened.

The truth is a goddam crumby and boring one, I know. But that's why you better not tell anyone. I doubt any of them would believe you, anyway. I mean, an ugly duckling turning into a pretty swan? If I hadn't seen it myself, I wouldn't believe it either.