The Duckman: A Duckie Dale Fanfiction

Chapter 8

When we walked into the music store, the smell of fresh records and tapes hit me like a ton of bricks. The store was stacked floor to ceiling and wall to wall of music, all from ABBA to ZZ Top, both of which are some of my favorites. Duckie went off to some other section of the store to find a new Hall and Oats album while I hung around the cheap bin looking for something to listen to on the way home. Nothing really caught my eye because it was filled with warn out dollar cassettes of music that only our parents would dare to listen to. I strolled around the store and looked at a few things here and there until I saw a guy looking over at the latest Culture Club records. I casually made my way over to him until he noticed me enough to start the conversation.

"Culture Club? Solid choice, very in right now." Oh great, you meet one of the hottest guys in town and you start with that? I started to flip through other records until he decided to reply back. Well at least it got something started...

"Um yeah, I'm actually a big fan of them, especially Boy George. He's one of the few men who can get away with that kind of hair and still manage to look cool all at once. What about you?" It was a solid ten seconds until I realized that he had finished talking and I could feel my face getting red once I figured out that the conversation had turned back to me.

"I'm sorry, what did you say?" I ask giggling, making an even bigger idiot of myself.

"I asked you what you thought of Boy George and all of Culture Club."

"I haven't heard much of their music, but based on what I've heard, I'd say I'm a fan. And that Boy sure can own the look he has, whatever it is. What other music are you into?"

"Well I know this probably sounds cliché but I really love the Beatles. Despite the fact that they're the biggest band ever and everybody has heard at least three of their songs, I just can't get enough of them. Especially their later stuff where they stop wearing suits and grew out their hair without worry what others would see them as. Do you know much of their stuff?"
"Do I? I live and breathe them. My favorite Beatle would have to be-"

"GEORGE!" We both shout at the same time, practically stumbling over each other.

"Wow, isn't that crazy? Most people would go for John or Paul, seeing how they're always in the front, but I-"

"Oh Sam! Sam! Samantha, where are you? Oh there you are!" Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Duckie walking up to the two of us with a stack of records and cassette tapes in his hands.

"Why hello there Sam! I was just about to go pay for all of this when I saw you two standing here. Oh I'm sorry, I'm being rude. Who may you be?" He says reaching out a hand, practically dropping all of his things in the process.

"The names John. And you are?"

"Phil to most adults, Philip to my mother, but to other relatable teens I go by Duckie, the Duckman, or pretty much anything in that area."

"That's um... Nice. Hey, do you need help with those? I wouldn't mind giving a hand when it's needed."

"No I'm fine, and I've got Sam here to help me to the car once we get out of here." He makes his way over to the counter as the two of us stand awkwardly with Duckie ten feet away.

"So Sam is your name, if I'm not mistaken?"

"Yep, short for Samantha, long for S. And you said your name was John, right?"

"That's correct. Too bad it's not short for anything or I could've had a cool name like Duckie... By the way, where did that name even come from?"