Duck

With the Danger Agency's normal training pool being shut down for cleaning and maintenance, this left the Danger Babies to go swim at one of the local public pools instead. And not only that, but with the usual instructor ill, the duty of giving the swim lessons somehow managed to fall upon Professor Squawkencluck's feathered shoulders.

"I don't even know how I got saddled into this! I'm not a duck!" she sighed to herself in exasperation as she led several little kiddos over to the shallow end of the pool. "I don't even like swimming... or teaching... or kids..." the hen clucked unhappily to herself, a small flash of shame running through her body at that last remark. But it was true! Kids just weren't her cup to tea. And yet here she was now, about to teach them how to swim!

"Oh, do go on then, Professor! It'll be fun, Professor! It'll be easy, Professor! It'll be a day off from work and the lab, Professor! How hard could it possibly be for someone like you, Professor? The kids will be alright, Professor!" the hen cruelly mocked all the people who had goaded her into this job. The lesson hadn't even started yet and the kids were already causing chaos. Some of the kids were running around the pool deck, some were jumping in and out of the water repeatedly, some were having breath-holding contests, some were having splash-fights, some were already trying to swim laps all on their own (which impressed Professor Squawkencluck where it didn't worry her), some were trying to drown one another (how on earth did kids find this fun?!) and some were just being stupid, shrieking with laughter and making all sorts of silly faces, jokes and gestures at one another as they rough-housed in the water. A day in the lab would've been far more fun and far less stressful... Even an unstable nuclear reactor would've been easier to deal with than a dozen or so unruly youngsters.

"Why me?" the hen repeated, but she really meant it! What on earth had her friends seen in her that screamed "good child caretaker"? Unless it was the old stereotypes about mother hens, in which case, Professor Squawkencluck wanted to give each and every person back at the agency a good, hard peck in the eye for going off of that stupid old stereotype!

"I'm not a duck! And I'm not a "mother hen"! I shouldn't have to be doing this!" she griped as she carefully lowered herself into the water and attempted to bring order to the chaos. It didn't work very well. Half the kids seemed too preoccupied in their own games to care what she said and the other half seemed tickled to see a chicken bobbing nervously around in the pool. It was like they could smell her fear and discomfort because they wasted no time in flocking around her, laughing and pointing, splashing water on her and trying to climb onto her back.

"Give us a ride, Professor!" some of them pleaded.

"I'm not a boat!" she shot back, trying to shake them off of her feathers. "And I'm not a duck!" she added again, under her breath. She was silenced by a well-aimed splash from one of the more devious Danger Babies. She didn't get paid enough for this job!

But against all odds, there did finally come a time when Professor Squawkencluck managed to get the kids to at least start doing warmup laps. It took nearly 20 minutes and she had to trick them into thinking it was some sort of big race, but she did manage to get them all in the water properly. But their forms looked terrible! Their strokes and paddles were really quite pathetic... But Professor Squawkencluck didn't dare stop any of them to tell them as such, for fear that she would never get them focused again if she broke their fragile concentration now...

"Oi! No runnin' on the pool deck!" a familiar voice caused Professor Squawkencluck to whip around. There, emerging from an office towards the other end of the pool, was a giant pink teddy bear. He was chastising a young girl. His sharp, authoritative growl was enough to get her to slow down, and actually seeing his hulking size got her to stop moving entirely. She did not run again for that entire day.