Friends, hello, it’s The Brit here. So, I’m a fan of a good marriage-of-convenience romance. I love the way the protagonists are forced together by a mutually beneficial arrangement, but will NOT be falling in love (they think). The drama! The high stakes! The longing! The desire!
Anyway, in spite of it being an outrageously obvious tactic, why don’t we explore the marriage-of-convenience trope … through ducks? Here goes:
Duck 1: Excusez-moi! Why are you waggling your flippers in my extremely desirable pond?
Duck 2: Your pond? What the duck? Is it private?
Duck 1: It is! But alas, I will lose it very soon to a troupe of pesky acrobatic geese who happen to all be fully-qualified lawyers—UNLESS I get married. What a pickle!
Duck 2: Well, look, mate. You’re NOT MY TYPE AT ALL but I have always fancied having—or splitting—my own pond.
Duck 1: Hmm. I do like your charming Cockney accent. Want to get married? We can own said pond together, then divorce shortly afterwards in order to enjoy the fruits of our labor.
Duck 2: Listen, guv, I thought you didn’t want me to put my plover-duckin’ flippers in your funky water?
Duck 1: Well, if you don’t mind me saying so, now I’ve had a little look at your flippers, I have to say they’re rather attractive—in a NOT MY TYPE AT ALL kind of way.
Duck 2: Why, thank you, guv. And you’re NOT MY TYPE AT ALL either. Though I’ve always had a thing for posh fowl.
Duck 1: Well, back to the goose paperwork, there is a section in that says, if the pond’s to be ours, we’ll ALSO have to share a swampy puddle at night for at least two years. Flipping awkward, I know! How do you feel about it? No funny business, I swear.
Duck 2: Done! Just don’t hog the frogspawn.
SEVEN DAYS LATER:
Duck 1: Why the duck did we ever get married? I HATE YOU!
Duck 2: The feeling’s mutual, salmon-breath! And how dare you wear that seductive cologne!
THIRTEEN DAYS LATER:
Duck 1: Ever since we started sleeping at close quarters in the same swamp, I’ve decided that you’re extremely attractive in an anger-inducing kind of way.
Duck 2: Ooh, are you going to get all furious and sulky? Turns out I really NEED that in a duck.
Duck 1: Yes, but it’s all a front! Honestly, I want to do more than share a swamp puddle with you, but I fear you don’t feel the same. Alas, aduck, alarum!
Duck 2: No, I DO feel the same! Thank goodness we’re not frightened to talk about it because, if we were, this blog post would go on for a DUCK of a long time with MORE HIGHS AND LOWS than a goose on choppy water.
Duck 1: But that would have been DELECTABLY FUN FOR THE READER.
Duck: Blimey, you’re right!
Duck 1: Want to entwine flippers withe me and get our beaks mutually soggy?
Duck 2: Duck yes!
Duck 1: I feel a happily-ever-after coming on.
Duck 2: Oh look! A goldfish!
Could we get more erudite? I think not! Consider yourself entirely versed in possible the worst-ever attempt to explore a trope.
Completely and utterly quackers.
Romancey Pants 