The Sad Story of Duck's Demise

I'm going to tell this story to you just the way I heard it. Every word is true.

[Scene]
A small six-year-old boy sits on a stool gazing out the windows of the sliding patio door. His mother enters the room for some purpose other than conversation, but without moving a muscle or shifting his gaze, the boy begins to speak.

Boy (somberly): One of my "puffets" died today.

Mother: Really? I'm so sorry to hear that. Which one?

Boy: Duck.

Mother: What happened?

Boy (now turning to face his mother, but still somber): Well...First, he had to suffer. {dramatic sigh} Then, he fell off a rock cliff. {shakes head} And, then, the earthquake got him.

Mother (amused and horrified all at once): Oh no! That sounds awful! What kind of suffering did he have to do?

Boy (earnestly and without missing a beat): He had to travel through a dark, dusty cavern.

Mother: Wow! That is some intense suffering.

Boy: Yeah. He had a dust allergy. So he started sneezing and fell off the cliff because he couldn't see where he was going.

Mother: And, did he die when he fell off the cliff?

Boy: Oh, no. His friends, Rabbit and Panda, who had been smart enough to go over the cavern rather than through it, rescued him when he fell off the cliff and took him to the hospital.

Mother: Oh, so he died at the hospital.

Boy: Yes. The earthquake hit just as the "ambleeince" pulled up to the hospital, and it fell right on top of Duck, and he died.

Mother: Goodness. How did Rabbit and Panda escape?

Boy: They had gotten out of the "ambleeince" and gone inside to wait for Duck. But, of course, Duck died. I buried him.

Mother: Where did you bury him?

Boy: In my wallet. In the living room.

Boy (glancing back out the window): Look at that bee. Do you know what kind it is?