Regarding Yesterday's Parade

To the Honorable Members of the Council,

I write to offer my sincerest apology for the regrettable disturbances that occurred during yesterday’s Founders Day Parade.

I understand that feelings remain tender, Main Street still smells faintly of smoke and pond water, and several insurance representatives are using the phrase acts of enthusiasm in ways that concern me. I cannot resolve every matter in one letter. I can, however, apologize fully and in sequence.

Three months ago, I volunteered to assist with parade operations. My responsibilities were modest: arrange folding chairs, distribute commemorative ribbons, and release twelve white doves at precisely eleven o’clock as the mayor concluded his remarks on heritage, unity, and prudent spending.

I was prepared to do all three.

Unfortunately, on Friday afternoon, Mr. Halverson of Halverson’s Feed & Tack informed me that the doves had escaped during a thunderstorm and were believed to be “traveling with purpose.”

Founders Day comes only once a year. I did not wish to disappoint the children or undermine civic morale. Acting swiftly, and I believed creatively, I secured twelve ducks of above-average energy.

In my defense, ducks are birds.

I recognize now that this statement, while factual, was not useful.

At eleven o’clock exactly, I opened the crate beside the reviewing stand.

The ducks did not rise gracefully into the sky as symbols of peace.

They exited low, fast, and with the unmistakable confidence of creatures who had already made plans.

Three charged toward the marching band.

Two entered the Methodist bake sale tent.

One achieved the mayor in a single leap.

The remaining six dispersed tactically.

It was here that the parade schedule began to loosen.

The Maple Creek High School marching band deserves praise. Though under active pursuit, they continued playing for nearly four minutes. Their selection changed unexpectedly from “Stars and Stripes Forever” to what several witnesses identified as “Flight of the Bumblebee,” but morale remained high.

At the bake sale tent, Mrs. Greeley attempted to subdue a duck using a pie server and language not generally heard before noon. She nearly succeeded until slipping on what investigators later described as “an independent glaze event.”

As for the mayor, rumors have exaggerated matters.

The duck did not attack him.

It mounted his shoulder, seized the ceremonial sash, and looked out over the crowd with composure. The mayor, startled by the sudden leadership transition, entered the fountain under his own momentum.

Had events concluded there, I believe history would have been kind to us.

Regrettably, that was also the moment the ceremonial cannon discharged.

I must explain the cannon.

For many years, the Founders Day cannon has produced only smoke and a reassuring bang. This year it had been supervised by my cousin Dennis, who has often argued that Maple Creek has become “too comfortable with moderate volume.”

He had made adjustments.

The resulting blast startled the ducks, the horses pulling the historical wagon, the volunteer militia reenactors, and, I suspect, portions of the next county.

The horses bolted toward Birch Street dragging one wheel, two bunting poles, and Mr. Sutter, who refused to release the reins because, in his words, “someone had to represent standards.”

The militia scattered with notable realism.

A spark from the cannon landed on the papier-mâché roof of the Centennial Gazebo, a structure built largely from optimism and dry adhesive. It ignited immediately.

I am grateful to report no one was injured in the gazebo fire, mostly because everyone had already fled from the ducks.

At approximately 11:14, matters worsened online.

Someone—believed to be the twins who operate the vape kiosk—began a livestream titled Duck Coup in Maple Creek.

Within minutes, viewership exceeded twenty thousand.

A public poll asked whether the duck wearing the mayoral sash should become interim mayor.

Seventy-eight percent voted yes.

By 11:19, reporters were calling Town Hall. Strangers were selling shirts. One national commentator described our community as “raw, volatile, and ready for change.”

I deeply regret telling Channel 8 News that “the people have spoken.”

There remains the matter of the emergency siren.

Several residents have asked why the water tower alarm sounded continuously for twenty-three minutes. While retrieving Duck Number Seven from the veterans’ memorial, I entered the utility shed seeking a ladder and pulled the wrong lever.

I had assumed the sign reading DO NOT UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES referred to storage shelves.

I see now that it did not.

Still, I ask the council to consider certain positives.

Attendance was the highest in parade history.

Downtown businesses sold out of food by noon.

The marching band has received three performance invitations.

Tourism inquiries have increased substantially.

And for one brief shining hour, our divided town agreed on something.

That duck had presence.

I do not seek to avoid responsibility. I accept whatever penalty the council considers fair, excluding imprisonment with geese.

This morning I helped sweep Main Street, returned six folding chairs to usable shape, and hid the cannon fuse where Dennis cannot locate it.

I also visited the mayor, who is recovering well. He requested privacy and asked that no one refer to yesterday as “the transition.”

In closing, I apologize for the smoke damage, the street closures, the fountain footage, the gazebo loss, the interruption of commerce, and any confusion caused by my repeated use of the phrase constitutional waterfowl.

I remain,

Respectfully and remorsefully yours,

Harold P. Wexler

P.S. The ducks have declined to disperse.