3 Books With Neil Pasricha

I was at a coffee shop on College Street when the barista Tony yelled “Hey! There’s that duck!”     I turned and, sure enough, out the front window was a…  duck. A giant pixelated-looking green-headed Mallard set atop a rubber-tire-sized body on top of orange-stockinged legs and a pair of orange Converse. And he was just … walking by.     Like some kind of interdimensional tumbleweed.     Uh, what … was this?     Some gimmick from the local radio station? An ad campaign for a boot company? I ran outside with my friend Ateqah and was puzzled that … she seemed to know him!     “Hiiiiiii Lewis,” she cooed. “You’re looking great, Lewis! How’s your day going, Lewis?”     He just … quacked at her.     I had so many questions: “Who are you? What are you doing? What is the meaning of this?”     But, of course, he just … quacked.     Ducks can’t talk!     Then he turned and did a 1920s-pauper-finding-a-penny-style heel-click a good three feet in the air and I was left standing on the sidewalk, stunned, with a big smil