Call of the Wild

After getting yelled at by my parents, I pouted alone on the patio. Then, coming from Johnny’s window, I heard: Quack! Quack! Quack! QUACK! QUACK! QUACK! I looked over, and there was Johnny, blowing out laughs on his duck call — the very duck call that I had given him!
“Stop it!” I said, between sobs. “You’re mean!”
His voice oozed mockery: “Aw, did you get in trouble?”
I wanted to stomp on both him and that duck call. He towered over me, however, with a wit to match. So I ran to the far corner of our yard. Though I plugged my ears, I could still hear the incessant quacking.