We came up with this story. Saturday eve. Itchy feet, dry throats. Someone next to me holds my beer. At this place, my friends broke in -just as a way to say. They kept the door open but forgot to close the dam tap when they left! Unspoken shame. Those who leave the tap open after leaving the bar have no manners. Let's get back in business. To Minnesota. A meeting of ducks, yes, it was. Greasing and drinking, they were in Minnesota. Doing duck's stuff, you know, because Minneapolis, Minnesota brought them together. But this is not a tale about friendship. Oh, no, my fellow reader. This is a tale about the conflagration that burst between them. Duck against duck, taking sides. Is Minneapolis a place worth living? They asked and pull in rage.
To be fair, my cause is well known. I advocate with enthusiasm for Minnesota in this blog. Hidden cozy alley after main street. But yes, this is the story of suckers, I mean, the ducks that were saying that Minnesota was not that cool. Perhaps they said that it sucks, but I was out of my senses that night. Please, be kind. I beg. Even when my task is easy because Minneapolis rocks hard.
The music stage in Minneapolis is fantastic. There is always a new live music show or concert to attend in the cities. I recently got really into a place called Bunker's in Northloop. Funny story short, none of my friends seems to know the place, but it's amazing. $5 bucks for cover and you are in. Live music 24/7 - well, every night but I wanted to write 24/7. I bet I don't need to start with First Avenue and Fine Lane, two amazing venues in Downtown, Minneapolis.
But these long dark and long again winter nights. Rejoice before getting swallowed in the dark. A tundra worst than being sent for unpaid forced works in Siberia, some would say. Living in Minnesota is like being unable to leave a toxic relationship with half a year of winter. Then, a duck told me, I yell, "face with all you got, angry mob of ducks. Hands high, leave your knife behind. This is damn fist fight. Prepare to suck my arguments pushing your face again and again. Minneapolis rocks!'
Things were boiling already when the flying duck broke his silence. "I never hear you saying anything good about Minnesota, babe." He reminded.
Ducks, us, chose to stay. Free will. The flying duck was right. So, the mob of ducks converged and delivered. The beer was boiling. Above four hundreds of fahrenheit or whatever that could mean. Why do Americans stick to fahrenheit anyway? Fahrenheit is even a hard word to write because of the h before the r. This is not a joke, I had to google it myself.
No advance until the red duck, the fearless one, raised her voice.
"Art is everywhere. Ink, oil, acrylics, and creativity runs free from West St. Paul to Plymouth. Art is so vibrant, alive. Ducks seem to get born with brushes and feathers. Quote me on this, but someday, there is going to be no wall to be painted in the Twin Cities."
But hear my pledge. The angry duck, I think it was her. The brawl of ducks flipped their wings in frenzy. Dum, quack, dum, and quack. We couldn't agree much that night. Still, everyone concluded that a chair was thrown open sky. I saw it coming. This duck, I mean, I saw the partner of flying duck, grabbing and launching the chair as a rocket. It was exciting. Think about it. She screams, we yell back. Confusion. A chair smashes the opposite wall, exploding in hundred pieces like a Midwestern kaleidoscopical grenade making a big explosion. And I claimed, "conchesumadre, la wea buena." Greasing and drinking, they were.
"You better calm down, or I'm calling the good damn police after I pull your heads against the dusty floor to put down this rumble. I swear for God." The party about to end, as the shopkeeper couldn't stand this shit show anymore.
Some common complains would follow. "You cannot make friends in Minnesota, bars that close too early, housing getting expensive, etc." The two sides were hungry to fight.
But then a song, my eyes and ears couldn't believe it. Things got more confused that night as everyone involved got arrested. The flying duck stood his ground, once again, but this time encouraged by the chanting of ducks behind him, and continued as follows:
Minnesota, longstanding peace
Written in blueberry ink, unwritten pact
Alike a brief twelve month lease
Ending before winter hijacks
I dare you to find one
Not even two nights
In which you are bored, alone
No misfits
Grab a bite at Red Dragon
Lose yourself at the MIA
Imagine skipping the passenger wagon
Drinking with goddesses from India
Minnesota buckles up, stay if you wish
Aware of the worst weather you could fish
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