I should've known it was Daffy Duck all along. Those black eyes, pinholes in a blanket of white; the black coat, a symbol of darkness and a shining bill, the most important part.
I sat in my living room, waiting waiting, looking at the clock on the wall, its numbers giggled and turned into Daffy’s face, leering, cackling. I wiped tears away, I was scared and daffy new it, I was hallucinating, Daffy seemed to be everywhere, every room burdened Daffy’s shadowing stature.
My eyes sagged, I had been awake for several days, Daffy wouldn’t get me, I would catch him awake, only then could Daffy be defeated. I stared at the clock again, Daffy was still there, the lamp beside me morphed into Daffy’s Menacing figure.
I waddled over to the sink and splashed water over my face, I ruffled and felt slightly refreshed. I looked up into the mirror above, red shone in the reflection: blood. Blood washed the living room floor, leading to a corpse that was mangled. On the stomach were the words “Daffy Duck Did It” etched into the now decaying flesh.
My head took up the mirror and for once I saw myself for what I was, face covered in feathers, my eyes pinholes with a bill protruding from my face, the most important part. It was then I truly knew that Daffy Duck did it.
