Filed by Roderick (Whiskers) McNibble
By Roderick (Whiskers) McNibble — Investigative Rodent & Unlicensed Fridge Technician
Duck and Cover: Prentis Penjani Lands in Dusty Gulch
I’ve seen some strange things in my time : feral echidnas in fedoras, a rogue lamington ring in Betoota, even a dingo elected mayor in a by-election scandal involving meat pies and a miscounted raffle. But nothing prepared me for the moment Prentis Penjani waddled into Dusty Gulch. Cloaked in mystery, he brought with him a frozen fury that cracked the town clean open like a week-old pavlova. Duck? Diplomat? Deep-cover decoy? The only certainty is this: Dusty Gulch will never be the same again.
I’ve interviewed rogue echidnas. I survived an eight-hour budget meeting chaired by a half-feral wallaby brought up by a solo Mum in a housing commission house who is obsessed with Net Zero. But nothing prepared me for this.
Prentis Penjani swept into Dusty Gulch like a feathery cyclone, flapping rhetoric, waving scrolls, and quacking at a pitch usually reserved for kettle whistles and emergency weather alerts. Within hours, he’d seized control of the Gang of 8 – a previously directionless crew of parking lot anarchists known mostly for waddling into McFookit Burgers and shouting things like, “Epstein’s in the walk-in freezer!” and “The marmalade was a false flag!”
Now, under Penjani’s command, the gang marches in terrifying unison. They have signs. Chants. A manifesto printed on recycled burger wrappers. One member was even seen interrogating a lettuce leaf. The lettuce leaf has now been recruited by the judiciary and is now slamming bad guys with great gusto.
I tried to approach Penjani for comment. He turned, flared his wings, and shouted:
“The pond knows! McFookits hide the evidence! Wake up and smell the pond scum!”
Then he handed me a pamphlet titled How To Spot a Deep Nest Operative and waddled off to rally the ducks for what he called “The Grand Repeckoning.”
But we must rewind a bit. It started quietly. The Gang of 8... our long-standing, slightly unstable flock of conspiracy-quacking mallards who haunt the burger bins and hangar gates – became 7.
No explanation. Just one duck, vanished like a pie on pension day.
Locals guessed he’d joined a travelling folk band or fallen victim to a misguided CWA baking experiment. Then, days later, he reappeared - calm, silent, changed.
“He was blinking like he'd seen too much,” said burger tech Kev, “but not enough to know what to do with it.”
On the very night Penjani arrived, a Ratty Airways orange bi-plane circled low over the ridge, spluttering like a crook crocodile that had done time with Steve Irwin ... before landing behind the Dusty Gulch hangar (aka Ratty HQ ) .
Moments later, the CWA ladies powered up the emergency pedal generators.
“It was the first time since the Great Lamington Blackout of ’02,” Dulcie said. “You only pedal like that when something real dodgy’s being plugged in.”
Dulcie swears she saw a large crate wheeled into the hangar by torchlight.
At the exact same time, a 20 kg bag of ice vanished from the McFookit Burger freezer. Stolen.
My AI image creator stuffed up and I am out of credits for the day so I had to change the storyline to fit the image. Instead of a duck I got this bearded weirdo!
“Locals watched in stunned silence as the great crate was wheeled into McFookits by what at first appeared to be a bearded man in a brown suit. But eyewitness ducks later confirmed: it was Prentis Penjani himself - briefly transformed into his human ‘walkabout form,’ only used for high-level negotiations, shape-based espionage, and when McFookits enforces a ‘no waterfowl after dark’ policy.”
The Hangar Holds Its Breath
I can now confirm what many feared, what others whispered, and what the ducks are quacking loudly into tinfoil loudspeakers:
The ice was needed for a top secret operation to bring in a crate of even greater importance:
The crate that contained Epstein.
Frozen. Preserved. Alive? Unclear. But definitely on ice.
I’ve seen the files. They exist. Penjani has them – tucked inside a manila folder under a schnitzel night menu and a handwritten note:
“Do not defrost without clearance from Peelgrad or Bagelburg.”
Global Chess on a Local Board
How did Dusty Gulch - population 213 (ducks included) – become the epicentre of this international slow-thaw scandal?
Espionage? A global sting? Psychological ops involving cold snacks and pastry diplomacy? No one knows.
In a town where secrets leak faster than McFookit’s marmalade ice cream machine, one question echoes through the quacks, whispers, and grease-smeared menus:
Why is Epstein still frozen?
According to Prentis Penjani, self-declared High Beak of Beakedom and now de facto Gang of 9 commander, keeping Epstein on ice was never about hiding him - it’s about timing.
“You don’t serve truth warm,” Penjani honked through a megaphone fashioned from a waffle cone.
“You chill it. You let it settle. Then, at the moment of maximum public hunger, you scoop it out.”
Sources close to the freezer (including a slightly traumatised jar of pickled onions) say Epstein was smuggled in during The Great Lamington Swap of 2023, wrapped in clingfilm and clutching a note: “Do not defrost until public awakening or Marmalade Wars. Whichever comes first.”
Why the Ice?
“Because the people weren’t ready,” Penjani explained during an impromptu TikTok talk behind the burger joint.
“You melt a truth bomb too soon, and all you get is sticky scandal and no change. But frozen? Frozen, he’s potential. He’s leverage. He’s insurance. He’s dessert for justice.”
But for How Long?
Penjani has hinted “The Great Defrost ” is coming - possibly aligned with the Third Marmalade Offensive, or Dusty McFookit’s re-election campaign, whichever proves more unstable.
“We’ll roll him out on a trolley, dripping and talking,” Penjani declared.
“And he will name names. Then we’ll mop up, re-freeze what’s left, and open a duck-themed think tank. We might just call it the Big Beautiful Bill. ”
But the question on everyone's lips is:
" Who is Prentis Penjani? Duck? Shapeshifter? Spy? "
This is Roderick ( Whiskers ) Mc Nibble signing out on what has been a very busy day in Dusty Gulch.
This article is satire. It uses humour, exaggeration, and a sprinkle of cheekiness to make a point. It’s not meant to be taken literally or as factual reporting. If you’re looking for straight news, this ain’t it. But if you enjoy a good laugh and a bit of honest reflection, you’re in the right place.
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