I've been gone for quite a while and there's no way I can logically explain where I was exactly.
It all started about a year ago.
It was a cold and grusome evening, but it was nice and cosy inside my home.
the mood was relaxed and we all enjoyed this blissful moment.
Then, suddenly all hell broke loose.
A loud ruckus on the door and the window shattered the silence in a thousand fragments.
As soon as my owners opened the door to see what that was all about,
three black dudes barged in and started throwing stuff around.
I got chickenshit (and that's really weird being a duck and all...) and crawled under the sofa.
Then some old guy strolled in looking like 'Gandalf the Red' or something...
I figured, my owners would be as scared as lil' old me...
What the.... they where cheering and clapping and singing... what was going on here?
This couldn't be right.
Oh ye I was scared allright, but that didn't stop me from being curious.
I noticed these visitors carried large brown bags with them. That was the container of the 'throwing stuff'. I couldn't help it, I had to know what it was.
And there I went... as soon as I saw them looking the other way, I moved as fast as I could towards the bag to have a peek.
In a flash I saw one of the blackish guys turn around, I had to move fast, improvise... quickly... and that....
That's where I screwed up!
I jumped in the bag. As soon as I was in it went black and shaky.
Fortunately there was plenty of food in the bag so I didn't starve.
But after a while I got thirsty. It seemed to take forever til they opend the bag again.
First I was blind as a bat, then vagely some contours started to shape, a bright white hand lifted me and I was sure I died and this... this was heaven...
But I wasn't dead.
And this 'Gandalf' was actually a nice guy.
His name was Sinterklaas (Saint Nicolas) and those blackish dudes were called Zwarte Piet (Black Pete) they were nice too.
Some of the Pieten suggested I should be sent home by mail and some justed wanted to throw me into the ocean so I could swim home.
Sinterklaas, however, decided to write home that I was safe and I'd be back in Holland by november 15th 2008. And that is how it happened.
Now I'm back home and my human family was so happy to see me, they bought me a kilo of kruidnoten (spiced short bread).
It would break their heart to tell them that I've had my fill of those in the past year!
