The Age-Old Question: Would You Rather Fight One Horse-Sized Duck or 100 Duck-Sized Horses?

I just got asked this in a job application.

I am not joking.

I don't think I've ever been more excited to jump on an application question. I've seen this asked time and time again on internet forums, in cheesy Facebook posts (with or without shitty Minion graphics), and during late-night "chill" sessions with friends.

I am of the "one horse-sized duck" camp, largely based on the argument that you need to be able to see your enemy in order to defeat them. Sure, a horse-sized duck would be ducking terrifying (no, not autocorrect), but a veritable army of duck-sized horses would be able to overwhelm and engulf me before you can say, "Yee haw."

Neigh, a hundred duck-sized horses are not my ideal enemy in this situation. I am not brawny, and would need to rely on my brains to win the day.

Consider the ultimate duck defense: a big ol' loaf of bread.

I know that you're not supposed to feed ducks bread, but honestly, if this horse-sized offense to nature is coming at me with its tooth-lined tongue waggling out of its razor-sharp beak of death, I'm not going to take the time to worry about upsetting its digestion. Remember - I don't want it to be digesting ME in a few minutes!

Like John Mulaney in his finest, mugger-avoiding hour, I'd grab my bag of bread (because I always carry one on me, just for these situations) and cry, "You want it? GO get it!" before flinging my carbohydrate-loaded hail Mary as far as possible. In an ideal situation, this equestrian-sized foe of mine would realize that a boule-sized breadcrumb would be significantly more delicious than a broke Millennial who is surviving on spite and Cheez-it's, turn toward the distraction, and leave me to fight another day.

But the question here isn't about distracting a horse-sized duck -- it's about defeating it.

While the duck is busy carbo-loading, I'm preparing my next attack. When a duck is as big as a horse, it makes its feet into a needlessly wide target. Using my quickly-prepared lariat (which I also carry alongside my big bag of bread for these exact conflicts), I can flick a heavy rope around that big duck's stupid feet, dragging it off balance before it knows what's quacking.

Like the AT-AT's of Star Wars, or the definitely-not-an-AT-AT-ripoff vord goliaths in The Codex Alera, my duck adversary would fall prey to its own body weight in an explosion of feathers.

Quack, quack, motherducker. Next move is yours.

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