this is the seventh day…
let there be water, plenty of water, hot and steamy water. and let there be foam, plenty of foam, soft and oddly odorous foam, atop the hot and steamy water. and let there be a duck, just one duck, a red and plastic duck (in fact none other than the famed and fabled mr duck) floating in the hot and steamy water amidst the soft and oddly odorous foam. and let it all be contained in a bathtub…
let it be bathtub day.
and now, let mr pride step out of the tub, wrapped in a soaked and thoroughly wet bathrobe - mr pride does not take to bathing whilst not wearing a bathrobe, he claims such is an unsanitary habit enforced on poor unwitting souls by the dutch bathrobe defamation league. yet, be that as it may, mrs pink still holds to the private belief that mr pride is actually just a wee bit prude - and let him light a cigarette.

mr pride and mr duck always take a bath together on every seventh day of the week (mr pride does not hold with having more bathtub days - he will tell you that such is an unsavoury habit introduced by foreigners, by which he means the dutch - nor with having less bathtub days - which would be nothing less than plain dirty, only befitting (as mr pride likes to put it) foreigners, and more specifically that means the dutch - and, or so everyone assumes, mr duck agrees wholeheartedly with this).

dr shy on the other hand never takes a bath, the reason being that he is afraid of mr duck, he maintains he looks at him in a weird way, and dr shy does not like it when people look at him - especially not so if and when they look at him in a weird way - and now you know, why, on certain, rainy, nights, you might find him, outside, tethered, to a pole, in the middle, of the garden, with mr duck, floating, in a puddle, just, out of his reach.