While you may know me as an unattractive waterfowl, my friends simply call me “Bill Clinton.” Not unlike your former president, I overcame a plethora of early-lifetime obstacles that left me feeling empowered and, at the same time, alienated both from self and from others. Not unlike your former president, I also have a big bill. Heh heh. There’s a double entendre there, you dimwits. Heh heh. I’m a duck.

Seriously, imagine for a minute that Hans Christian Andersen totally butchered your life story and then Disney came by, picked up that written piece of crap and molded it into an even feces-ier piece of motion picture. My sentiments exactly. I mean, yeah I’m flattered that my rags-to-riches life was documented, but I was imagining more of a presidential “My Life” than a jurisprudential “Ugly Duckling.”

You know, not once did I refer to myself as “ugly” during my interviews with Hans. I was going for a more “misunderstood” flare. Admittedly, I was pretty gangly in my youth. I kept my long green locks shaggy over despondent eyes; I wore a white choker around my neck. I was your typical bad-mallard, no doubt about it. And ain’t nobody gonna deny that that didn’t add to my cool quotient. Of course, I wasn’t popular in the typical sense of the word. I wasn’t one of those goose-porking water-polo jocks, but I certainly had my own flock of outsiders to hang with. I smoked my fair share of seaweed doobs outside of the pond with the other “lame” ducks. I wore my fair share of flannel shirts—we were grungy and ironic, what with our wearing hunter gear and all. Yeah, I was a tortured soul. Yeah, my mother was slightly overbearing. And, yeah, I ran away from home. But I came back, like, the next day. My story is not about an ugly duckling. It’s about your average coming-of-age adopted mallard hen.

And who was Andersen calling a swan anyway? Just because I transferred to the Duck Arts Academy my senior year doesn’t mean I suddenly sold out and became a large, graceful aquatic bird with webbed feet and a long slender neck with a white plumage, alright? It’s not like I suddenly forgot where I came from a fronted as a member of the Anatidae family, okay? I was still a common water bird representing the Anseriformes order, got it? I was just shopping at Express for Man-Ducks more often, and maybe my new, cream-colored, fluffy turtle-neck sweaters were giving Hans the wrong idea. That prick.