Gerald taped a neon orange ‘WET PAINT’ sign to his garage door, then immediately knocked over a bucket of glue. The stuff oozed like melted crayon across his collection of half-finished DIY disaster pieces: a wind chime made of old spoons, a lampshade knitted from socks, and a sculpture of a duck made entirely of duct tape. His cat, Muffin, stared at the mess as if judging his life choices.
“This is art!” Gerald yelled, slapping a banana peel onto the duck’s head for “texture.” The garage reeked of citrus and regret. He’d promised his neighbor he’d build a “modern masterpiece” for the community garden, but the only thing growing was mold in the corner.
Then he remembered the 2-liter bottle of soda hidden behind the lawnmower. “Eureka!” He yanked it out, popped the cap, and poured it into the duck’s beak. The duck sputtered, fizzy bubbles erupting like a geyser. The sock lampshade flapped wildly as the wind chime exploded into a cacophony of clinks and clanks.
Muffin hissed, leaping onto the workbench. Gerald grinned, oblivious. “Behold! The Duck of Dynamic Disarray!” The duck wobbled, then toppled into a pile of expired craft supplies, creating a spontaneous sculpture park of tangled yarn and broken crayons. The soda had turned the glue into a sticky, glittery sludge that clung to everything.
The next day, the neighbor arrived, only to find Gerald knee-deep in a puddle of rainbow-colored goo, yelling, “It’s alive! It’s alive!” The duck sat in the middle of it all, now a multi-tiered fountain of soda and glue, dripping onto a confused garden gnome. Gerald’s masterpiece was a disaster. But hey, it sparkled.
