There was a talking duck there.
"You look pensive," said the duck, sensitively.
"Well, anxious is more like it. I've got a feeling something really weird is going to happen."
The duck nodded thoughtfully, and said, "Well, trust your instincts. I'll wait with you."
We spent some time waiting, playing chess, composing haiku, debating politics (the duck was more of an an anarcho-capitalist, and I consider myself more of a humanist libertarian, you see), singing bawdy Polish folk tunes.
Hours went by. At about noon, I decided my instincts were wrong, and I head home.
And that's when I realized what a fool I'd been! I'd been talking to a duck for hours! How spectacular!
After all, ducks normally fly south for the winter! Can you believe it? A cold-weather duck!