Dusty Gulch Gazette – Emergency Midnight Edition
November 27, 2025 – Vol. 147, No. 320
Every Citizen Cloaked. Every Creature Covered. One Duck to Blame.
By Roderick (Whiskers) McNibble – Writing From Under 4 Layers of Cotton
Dusty Gulch, 11:59 p.m. – Darkness has fallen across our once-sunburnt town, and not the poetic kind. No, this is the literal, suffocating, fabric-flapping darkness mandated by Maurice E-Duck’s “Burka Is Good Act.”
At precisely 7:03 a.m., loudspeakers crackled to life, and the E-Duck’s voice echoed across the rooftops:
“ATTENTION! ALL CREATURES MUST BE FULLY CLOAKED. UNITY THROUGH UNIFORMITY! DARKNESS IS DIGNITY!”
By 7:04 a.m., Dusty Gulch was a nightmare of stumbling silhouettes.
A TOWN OF SHADOWS
Mrs Dulcie Jenkins has been wandering around all day yelling at wheelie bins she mistook for children. Old Man Higgins fell asleep standing up because he couldn’t find his own chair. The frogs keep attempting to propose marriage to passing boots. The boots never responded.
One goat was found head-butting what he thought was a fence. It was the mayor, Dusty McFookit.
Sir Barksalot tried to bark out a protest, inhaled half a metre of cloth, and now sounds like a malfunctioning vacuum cleaner.
Even the emus - normally the most confident citizens in town - now walk like pensioners during a blackout.
But with great legs.
And at the centre of it all sits Maurice E-Duck, perched atop the fountain like a small, tyrannical feathered warlord in a tiny embroidered burka of his own design.
THE WOMAN WHO WARNED US
😁😉😏
— Rosita Díaz (@RositaDaz48) November 27, 2025
pic.twitter.com/QLUX9PVb7F
At 3:17 p.m., a ute painted in 14 shades of orange fishtailed into the square. Out climbed Pauline Hanson, carrying a megaphone, a clipboard, and the expression of someone who has been proven right again and is exhausted by it.
She surveyed the swaying, faceless town and declared:
“What did I tell you lot? You give one bird a microphone, and suddenly everyone’s wrapped up like leftover Christmas ham!”
A passing burka-shrouded local muttered, “…I think that was directed at me,” but no one could tell who said it.
Pauline continued, waving her clipboard like an exorcist:
“You’re Australians! You’re meant to be sunburnt, visible, loud, and slightly inappropriate! Not slithering around like a pack of gothic caterpillars!”
The crowd shuffled awkwardly. Or it might have been one person shuffling very enthusiastically. Hard to tell.
THE CLIMAX OF ABSURDITY
At sunset, Maurice the E-Duck climbed onto an upturned bucket and addressed the masses:
“You see? Hidden faces mean hidden conflict! No judgement, no comparison, no competition - perfect unity!”
Someone shouted back:
“We can't even see who we're shouting at! Piss off why don't ya?”
No Apologiy, no backing down.
— Jack The Aussie (@hammerofleft) November 26, 2025
She's one tough cookie. pic.twitter.com/zWo6ePbbcd
Maurice quacked smugly. He considered this a win.
THE REVOLT BEGINS
At 11:11 p.m., a rebellious gust of wind ripped the hood off Old Man Higgins. For the first time all day, a face appeared. The townsfolk gasped - a sound like 400 canvas shopping bags being squeezed at once.
One by one, hoods slipped, cloaks snagged, knots loosened. A whisper grew into a murmur: “Bugger this.” Then into a unified roar:
“BUGGER THIS!”
Burkas tore off like confetti at a divorce party. Mrs. Jenkins set hers on fire, intentionally this time. The emus kicked theirs into the next postcode. The frogs threw theirs into the creek and immediately began flirting with the correct species again.
THE NEW RESOLUTION
“Burkas are hereby banned in Dusty Gulch,” the council declared at 11:58 p.m.
“Not because of culture. Not because of politics. But because this town refuses to hide women, men, animals, or anyone else under a dark, suffocating sack designed to erase identity. If we ever do need sandstorm protection, we’ll let you know.”
THE DUCK FLEES
Maurice E-Duck was last seen waddling toward the highway, dragging a suitcase labelled “Supreme Leader (Return to Sender).”
Pauline Hanson tried to chase him, shouting, "Come back here! I’m not finished with you yet!”
DUSTY GULCH RETURNS TO LIGHT
Faces free. Feathers visible. Freedom restored. And the whole town agrees:
“We tried darkness. Turns out we prefer insulting each other in full daylight.”
- Roderick (Whiskers) McNibble, tail proudly unshrouded
And so ends the strangest day in Dusty Gulch history - a day of darkness, ducks, and deeply confused livestock. The town is back to bickering in the sunshine and Maurice E-Duck is no doubt halfway to causing a diplomatic incident in Yabby Creek.
As for me? I’m hanging up the last of my torn cotton layers, brushing the burrs out of my whiskers, and filing this report with only minor fabric-induced trauma.
Until the next calamity -
Roderick (Whiskers) McNibble
Chronicling the mayhem, one quack-related catastrophe at a time
