I'm a duck.
I live on a dusty farm in Australia (In rl I've never been to Australia). My friends are a sheepdog, an old ram, and the farmer's son, who is a businessman now. I want to know why all the other animals are gone. I go inside the farmhouse.
I'm a girl. Two of my mother's friends are there to see my mother. I say, well, my mother isn't very well today, but she'll be surprised and happy to see you. One of the women, an Englishwoman, leaves. The other, a New Zealander, stays. We sit in a parlour room in the top floor of the farmhouse. The afternoon sun is coming in the windows, made visible by all the dust in the air. We are still in Australia. My mother muses about why the Englishwoman left. I venture that she felt rude to be dropping by unexpectedly. My mother snorts. "Just like a Brit to cause offense by being overpolite". She and her friend are laughing about all the things their mothers used to do. We all giggle as the New Zealand woman tells a story about how her mother used to deliver bread on a bike, all over the countryside.
I envision an old lady with goggles, long grey hair, missing teeth, on an old-fashioned bicycle, riding like the wind, grinning insanely. She has a parachute streaming along behind her as she pedals, and it's full of bread. That is how she carries it, in the parachute. She's thinking, she's as happy as Larry.
I'm in a subway tunnel in Toronto. I have to recycle some used oil that my drug dealer gave me, but I don't know where to take it. There are all sorts of other people in the tunnel illegally too. These two islamic guys are playing chicken with the train. I want to get out of the tunnel before the train comes, and I do, just barely. I miss a couple of trains but finally catch one. A family gets on the train with a half-grown white beagle. It jumps up at my legs. I'm scared, because I think I'm a duck.
I'm a duck, back on the farm in Australia. I ask the farmer's son why there are no animals left. He says, "go ask my father." I go upstairs to where my mother and her friends had been, and there is a man sitting at a desk, smoking a cigar. I ask him where all the other animals have gone. He seems wasted, dissolute, as he says, "They weren't viable.
Don't you know, you silly duck, it's all about oil now. Oil and cable t.v."
He gets out from behind the desk and advances toward me. He's going to wring my neck.