Prentis Penjani’s Grand Debut – The Duck Was Just the Warm-Up Act
By Roderick (Whiskers) McNibble, Ratty News Senior Correspondent, via Carrier Galah from the Orange Floatplane
(Fuelled by Whiskers Dynamic Propulsion and a Whiff of Unfiltered Emu Brew)
Filed live from the creaky stage of Dusty Gulch’s Town Hall, where the bin chickens are fluffing their feathers for a standing ovation – or a strategic retreat – and the galahs are garbling lines like it’s opening night at the Censorship Cabaret.
The news landed in Dusty Gulch like a firecracker in a tin shed: Maurice E-Duck, the town’s longtime avatar of electronic caution, is flapping off into obscurity. Dusty McFookit toasted freedom with extra Emu Brew.
But the locals know better than to cheer too soon - the real mind behind the pond has always been Prentis Penjani, waiting in the wings for this exact moment. And that moment is on the horizon.
One sharp-eyed voice cut through the noise:
“Prentis Penjani isn’t replacing the Duck – he is the Duck, just with sharper teeth and better PR.” – Mavis, CWA, Dusty Gulch
That line hit the heart of Dusty Gulch like a lightning bolt through the telegraph wires. Maurice E-Duck, the Commissioner, the bureaucrats, even the bin chickens and the Duck Deputies — they’ve all been cast members, props in a performance scripted long before the Gulch had Emu Brew on tap. This retirement is not a liberation. It is the cue for the true player to step onto the stage.
Regarding the esafety commissioner she’s done her job, now she gets to ride off into the sunset after leaving us with this digital ID.
— Joel Jammal (@JoelJammal) October 23, 2025
Just like all the premiers leaving after their job was done after Covid.
A change of leadership is like a regular washing of hands of the… pic.twitter.com/q86KBxfZJ8
Green Goblin’s Curtain Call
Prentis, long waiting in the shadows, is ready to turn a familiar stage into something far more cunning. His latest enterprise - the ominously named “Prosperity Pond Patrol” - promises to safeguard Dusty Gulchians from “unsafe thoughts, unlicensed irony, and feelings not yet regulator-approved.”
Maurice's Duck Patrols, once strutting for mischief and mild annoyance, now pace with a hint of suspicion, their synchronised steps resembling rehearsals for surveillance patrols rather than displays of exuberance. The CWA, usually focused on scones and civic virtue, is already knitting banners that say “Welcome!” on one side and “Warning!” on the other.
Dusty McFookit, leaning on his bar growled: “The Duck was the decoy. Prentis is the conductor. The final act’s begun.”
Redhead, polishing her teacup like it’s a crystal ball, added: “This isn’t a resignation – it’s a cue. The director’s finally taking the spotlight.”
Minerals, Muzzles, and Mayhem
Maurice’s old files, stuffed in crates behind the council shed, hum with hints of oversight overreach - a mere rehearsal for Prentis’s polished performance.
Prentis isn’t just eyeing Maurice’s pond - he’s draining it to build his glitzy gulag, promising to “protect” Dusty Gulchians from every unapproved scroll. Parents fretting over their kids’ feeds? Prentis will “help” with “Knee-Powered Privacy Pledges” - Trevor’s clangers as mascot, naturally - while slipping in ID checks stricter than a bank check on what you are spending your $500 withdrawal on.... .
And the minerals megadeal? Already part of the stage: every Arafura update flagged, every sacred site squawk silenced, all under the guise of “digital decorum.”
Emus, Bins, and the Big Spotlight
The town’s jubilation has curdled into cautious speculation. Prentis Penjani's Ducks march like surveillance sentinels, scanning for unverified scrolls.
Even the bin chickens freeze mid-scavenge, sensing that this is no ordinary encore.
As the moon climbs over the water tower, the Dusty Dingo bar becomes a bunker, Redhead’s teacup a talisman, and the CWA’s knitting needles click like a countdown. Maurice’s departure is only the warm-up; the real performance - cunning, polished, and inevitable - is about to begin.
The eternal gulch truth? The devil you know quacks loud, but the devil you don’t conducts the whole bloody orchestra.
P.S. Trevor’s knees are already tuning a “Censorship Cha-Cha.” If they short the grid, blame Prentis. Queue the spotlight - the green goblin’s grand debut is underway.
Roderick (Whiskers) McNibble
