Saturday, July 18, 2009

Ducktales: Twenty Years Later - Episode 23

BAM! There you go. For better or for worse Final Chapter ho! Make sure to drink your ovaltine.

Once again, a reminder, this is fresh, Grade A unabridged me writing here, no editor nor spellcheck darkening my Word document. If you see something that doesn't parse, be sure to inform me.

Watch for a full archive, and for god's sake someone make a page on TVtropes. I've been wanting to for the longest time, but how utterly tasteless would that be, to make a page about my own stupid fanfic? Someone else do it or it won't get done.

Anyway. It's over! Hooray! or boo. Whichever. Enjoy!


Episode 23:

Scrooge McDuck stood, young, healthy, strong, in tanned leather hides and with bandages wrapped 'round his webbed feet instead of shoes. He stood in the driving snow of the Yukon, saying nothing, just looking upon the sight he beheld. He held the Goose Egg nugget in his hands and held it up.

Two white-feathered hands appeared, and took the nugget from the man's hands. They were dressed in blue-accented khakis, topped with a pith helmet. He stood as he held the gift from his uncle, in the jungle of India, near the mountain range. As he stood, the giant gold nugget began to turn to dust in his hands, gold dust, and he smiled as the euphoria of discovery came upon him.

He looked up at his Uncle who was already disappearing over the horizon, off towards the pristine splendor of White Agony Creek, arm in arm with a gilt goddess with hair that was gold and jewels of gold and a dress that shone in the light like gold.


With a gasp, Dewey woke and tried to sit up. The pain in his chest, however, caused him to cry out, before he laid back, trying to will away the ache by staying perfectly still.

"Good. You're awake," said a familiar voice.

Dewey looked over and saw, in Sailor uniform, and with both eyes, although one was strangely inert, his Uncle Donald, who had bandages wrapped over his own stomach.

"Uncle Donald," Dewey said, his throat dry, "Wha-?"

"We're back in Duckburg. It's been two days since we were shot."


"Dead. S.H.U.S.H wasn't too pleased with that little stunt we pulled, but after hearing the recorded confession, well..."

"We're... They found us...?"

"Innocent. You've been reinstated as CEO of McDuck Enterprises, with apologies from the board of directors."

"But...?" Dewey's hand traveled up and hovered over his heart. He felt bandages underneath.

His head turned in response to a strange metallic clink. Donald had dropped on the hospital end-table a strange, gnarled metal object. It seemed to be a crumpled bullet, but flowered out strangely. It seemed almost to be comprised of two pieces.

"Th... the dime."

"Around your neck, yes. It caused the bullet to stop just short of your heart. If it hadn't been there the doctors said you would probably be dead."

Dewey looked towards the former number one dime, before looking up at the ceiling, breathing evenly. Memories from... was it really two days ago? Memories from then flooded back to him, and a feeling of triumph came over his face.

However. "The war. What about the war?"

"There is no war, Dewey."

"But... But Thembria..."

"...Has finally been absorbed into the Soviet Union. The Grand High Marshall was executed. Probably for trying to start Nuclear war over a magical dime. For the moment, we're safe, besides the conflict in Vietnam of course."

Dewey sighed, relieved. "I want a phone."



"No. Louie is acting CEO until you get better. I'm supposed to keep you honest."

"Louie! But... But...!"

"He's doing quite well so far, if you want to know. He reopened all the factories Farid closed, and aborted the plan for weapons manufacturing." Donald sat down at a chair by Dewey's bed. "Your goldmine has proved to be quite rich, by the way."

"My mine..." Dewey smiled, "My mine."

"And Uncle Scrooge's fortune is safe. All of your accounts have been unfrozen, and all the charges have been expunged. They even forgave Huey's draft dodging, though I think he's gotten to like life abroad."

Dewey nodded, "Good."

Donald seemed to look around, feeling a bit awkward after all those years away. "Well, uh. I should go. The docs say I should still be in bed like you." He began to walk out of the room.

"Wait. Uncle Donald."

He froze, before slowly turning around to face his nephew.

"Where did you go? You were gone for so long."

"There was..." Donald looked down, "There was an invasion. Aliens. Don't bother trying to make sense of it, you won't remember, but PK... I stopped it, but at the end I had spent so long behind the mask that I... it was difficult to give it up, see?"

"Are you going to settle down now?"


Dewey's eyes were hard as he they swiveled to lock with Donald's. Donald's eye kept pace with Dewey's. Dewey then drew his gaze down to Donald's left hand, where a simple gold band still encircled the finger.

"Yes..." said Donald, once he saw the ring, "Yes, I think I'll settle down." He turned back towards the door and walked out without another word, but with the weight of the world finally off of his shoulders.


It was indeed one week later when Dewey and Donald Duck were released from the hospital. A crowd of people gathered around, taking photos of the pair, escorted by Dewey's two brothers and personal assistant. Dewey walked with a cane due to the injury in his leg sustained during the fight with Farid, and men in trenchcoats with tape recorders shouted at him for his story. His group wound their way through the crowd towards a long limosine. When Dewey caught sight of the long, opulent car, he gave a dirty look towards Louie.

Suddenly, A man vaulted through the crowd, firing off his camera wildly while asking a volley of questions; Where did they go? What were they doing? Is it true that McDuck Enterprises was going to sell weapons to the soviets.

A flashbulb was soon flying over the crowd, as the rest of the camera, minus a few parts, crashed to the floor with a shattering noise. Dewey then placed the cane back on the ground, with a small dent where the wood was nicked by the metal rim of the camera. He then ducked down and sat in the car, followed by the rest of his friends and family.

Louie was the last one in, and smiled brightly, waving his hat towards the crowd.

"Looks like Uncle Scrooge is back in town, boys!"

The crowd laughed as they jotted down Louie's; the witty brother's; jaunty little jab. He was the witty brother, the reader favorite who sold papers with a smile and an off-color remark, but Dewey was all business, and a businessman was exactly what McDuck Enterprises needed now.


The group was gathered on the docks, sitting and standing around the benches facing the water, where the Sea Duck was moored, repaired, refueled, and looking as good as the day she was first born.

Dewey and Webby sat in the middle, while Louie and Gosalyn, out of costume and still going by the name "Lorelei" around the Ducks, although she made no effort to hide her casual self, stood behind. Huey, with the three girls on either side of him and behind, sat on a second bench, while Doofus and Donald stood by.

"I suppose this is it," Said Huey, "That was the last party all together. From now on we're pretty much on our own."

"I don't suppose you could stay?" asked Webby.

"No. I gotta keep moving. I like working for Mr. Cloudkicker. Lets me go places, meet people."

Louie spoke up, "And we've got to be getting back to Saint Canard."

Goz placed a finger to her beak, "Hush-hush."

"And besides," continued Huey, "I've got to take these three lovely ladies back home."

They all gave sweet little sounds of disappointment, before Rosalina spoke, "Cannot we come with you Huey? We want to see the world."

Huey then began to sweat, "Well, girls, it's not like I don’t want you to come with. It's just... your Uncle..."

"Tio Carioca agrees with us," said Maria, whose English was improving.

"He think we should be with you," said Amalia, whose English finally existed.

"But..." He said, clearly wanting them to stick around, but afraid of what would happen if that came to pass, "...I mean, I'm all for it, but... You know how... how much I like you... all three of you... and I don't know if your Uncle would approve if I didn't... er..."

"Choose one?"

"And stick..."

"...Weeth her?"

"Uh..." Huey blushed and let himself slouch in the bench, "Yeah."

There was a moment, where the three girls had frozen around the dejected Huey, before all three burst into merry laughter.

"Is THAT why you were so nervous around us Huey?"

"Because you thought you had to choose..."

"...Just one?"

"Y- uh... What?" Huey said, perking up.

"We though you just weren't into group sex is why you only slept with us one at a time," said Rosalina with an innocent smile, "Why did you not say something?"

But Huey could not say anything, the thoughts and feelings he was experiencing at the moment were indescribable. Head, heart, and loins burned at once. "You mean I get... all three of you?"

"Yes!" They said.

"All at once?"


"And Joe approves?"

"As long as you never look at anyone but us..."

"...But then you would have to worry..."

"...About us more."

A rumble in Huey's throat began to grow, becoming a cry, before morphing into a shout of pure victory. He stood quickly, anxious to be on his way. He shook each of his brother's hands in turn.

"Well fellas, It's been great, But I gotta fly. Take care. Don't let him work you too hard Webby. Remember to eat a really expensive meal once in a while. Don't take any wooden nickels. I'm..."

He then reached for Donald's hand and froze.

"Goodbye, Huey," said Donald, simply, "I'm sorry I couldn't have been a better father."

Louie and Dewey looked at each other quickly, wondering what Huey would do. His face was an unreadable mask as he stood before his Uncle, with the three girls placing their worried hands over their mouths.

But suddenly, Huey's arms reached out, encircling Donald in a warm embrace. Donald stood for a minute, basking in the tightness, before his own arms came up and hugged back. When they broke apart, Huey looked to be a better man, more energetic, happier, ready to love and be loved. He reached for the girls hands, wishing idly that he had three hands. The leftover girl, Amalia, not content being left out, simply hiked up her skirt and hopped up onto the back of her new shared lover, and Huey laughed, taking her light weight as he and the girls walked up the ramp of the Sea Duck, laughing and loving and lusting all the way.

As the plane began to take off, Gosalyn smirked, "Think it'll last?"

"I think that is entirely beside the point, 'Lorelai,'" said Louie, "The very fact that it has happened will make him proud to be a man for the rest of his life." Louie then sighed theatrically, stretching his arms before placing a hand on his Brother's shoulder, "Well, Dewey. That's it for me. McDuck is all yours. I kept the seat warm for you, got your affairs in order, and tried to leave everything as close as it was to how you left it. Hope you're ready for a hard core pain in the ass."

"I think after all this vacation, a little drudgery will be just what I need."

"I thought so." He took Gosalyn's arm and began to walk away. "By the way, I gave fifteen thousand dollars to 'Books without borders.'"

"you WHAT!?"

"I kept the receipt this time. Don't worry. It's tax-deductible." He waved his hand lazily, "Ciao."

Gosalyn laughed, grabbing him by the waist. He flinched away a bit.

"What's wrong?" she whispered.

"Sorry," he whispered, not wanting to ruin his exit, "You're just still so young..."

"How old do you think I am?"

"I dunno... Seventeen?"

"Yeah, seventeen... When we FIRST met. That was over a year ago."

"Y-you mean...?"

Gosalyn nodded her head, with a smirk. Louie heaved a sigh of relief, turned her around and kissed her as passionately as he could muster. Used to outbursts like that, she let him, and even reciprocated.

"Idiot," she said as they disengaged and walked off, arm-in-arm, into the proverbial sunset.

"I should be going too, Dewey. Mr. Duck. W- Webby," said Doofus, wringing his hands, "Mr. Crackshell will be expecting me soon. I've got you-know-what to do tonight."

"Of course, Doofus," said Dewey, "As you were."

Doofus seemed poised to say something, He wanted so to take Webby with him, to make her his. He loved her so, he knew that now, and he regretted he had ever let her go. "Webby...?"

She looked up at him with a pleading look. A look that begged him not to say anything. Her arms encircled Dewey's as they both sat on the bench. In a terrible instant, Doofus knew that she was lost to him, and that for her to be truly happy, She needed Dewey, and not Doofus, in her life.

"Goodbye, Webby," he said finally, before turning and leaving.

After a moment of silence, where Dewey, Webby, and Donald all sat or stood by the dock, watching the Sea Duck begin is ascent and fly off over the horizon, Donald began to walk away.

"Uncle Donald?"

"I'm not saying goodbye," he called, "Not yet. I've got a wife to get home to. I'll probably be in the doghouse for this."

"Feel free to come back to the Money bin," Dewey called, "For your old job back. The position is still vacant."

"Is the pay any better?"

Dewey had a quick intake of breath, and had a few false starts, before Webby jumped in, "$5.00 an hour."

Dewey's head snapped to give her a look, "Ms. Vanderquack!"

"He's married, Dewey, thirty cents an hour isn't going to cut it."

Dewey grunted, before turning back to his uncle and saying, firmly, "Three dollars, and not a cent more, understand me?"

Donald smirked, "Yeah, yeah, yeah. Welcome back, Dewey."

"Welcome Back, Uncle Donald."

The Duck walked on, finally content in the safety of Scrooge's legacy, towards the old house where he used to live with the little woman named Daisy who was sure to sock him square in the jaw before giving him the biggest kiss in the world for being away so long.

And so, Dewey and Webby sat, watching the sun slowly set over the horizon. The twilight air settled over them like a fog as the two bodies simply sat, feeling the other's presence through the contact of their arms.

After a moment, Webby said, "I have something to show you."


Blindfolded and pushed, Dewey stumbled forward through the halls of the money bin. He could tell where he was, as the smell of greenbacks still lingered there, but faded over time. He wondered what was up.

"Just a little more," Webby said, before she stopped and took off his blindfold. "Ta-da!" She was holding a long package.

"What's this?" said Dewey.

"A present, open it."

He looked up at her, slowly, before looking back down to the package. It was gaudily wrapped in holiday wrapping, each piece of which was tied with string so as to be entirely reusable. He smiled. She smiled. He began to open it, careful not to rip the wrapping too badly, and revealed a long box, which opened to reveal...

"A tie!"

"To replace the one that got ruined. I knew you weren't going to buy one yourself, so..."

"Oh. Webigail. It's... I love it." He wound it around his collared neck, and attempted to tie it on, once, twice. In their practiced dance, Webby reached forward and tied it on for him, with neither of them paying much attention to the fact.

He went to look at himself in the reflection in the window, and nodded, "It's nice. I like it."

"I'm glad."

He looked around the room, placing his hands on his hips as he surveyed his office, which, for once, he felt like he had earned the right to call 'his.' "What time does work start in the morning?"

"Six o'clock, sharp."

"Right. Another day, another million dollars." He began to hobble out of the office, "Come, Ms. Vanderquack. Lets go..."

"Wait... Dewey."


"There's... one more surprise I wanted to show you."

He turned his head towards her. "Yes?"

She took his hand, gently, and led him towards the money bin's vault. She laid his hand on the locking mechanism, and allowed him to input the code. The bolts came undone with a loud, hollow noise, and the vault door swung open.

Inside there seemed to be nothing, as usual, the money of years redistributed among the three brothers. However, as Dewey got closer.

"Webby! You didn't!"

"It's all yours, Dewey!" she cried pointing out the shallow pool of money that had formed at the bottom of the bin, "Every single cent!"

With her help, and wincing from his lame leg, he began to climb down the long ladder. It took the two of them a long time to reach the bottom, where the load, predominantly made of coin with a few small greenbacks around to fluff it out, laid like a silver sea.

"But... but..."

"It's all of the profit to date from the Gold mine," she said, before pointing out a small, charred strongbox, "Plus what you saved from the B&B."

He hobbled over to the strongbox and opened it. The absurdly high amount of Brazilian money, amounting to barely any American, laid in the box. Dewey smiled as he mentally counted it. His.

A wild thought came over him, "How deep it is?"

"About five feet. We made sure to use a lot of small change at this point, to fill it out, you know?"

"Perfect. Perfect!" He stood, taking her by the hand, "Do you still remember how?"

"Remember how to..." her eyes blinked and she looked at the sea of cash that felt so hard under her feet, "You don't mean. With your leg?"

"Uncle Scrooge did it well into his 90s, I think I can do it with a bum leg. Come on." He veritably dragged her to the end of the wall, his eyes shining brightly, "And I was thinking when we get home, I'm thirsty for some of that good nutmeg tea you make. Have I ever told you I like your tea?"

"No, Dewey."

"Well, I do. I was just never thirsty for it before. I'm parched now. Hungry too. Where can we get some cheap Chinese or something?"

"There's the take-out place on the corner."

"Perfect. I could just go for some Chop suey and rice, with all the free soy sauce and fortune cookies I can pocket. Ready?"

"It's been years, but... I think so."

"Let's jump... together then..."

"Y-yes. I... I'd like that, Dewey."

Silently, Dewey counted, one, two, three, before he dove, headfirst towards the money, followed closely by Webby. Defying all physics, the two bodies sliced through the coins like water, old instincts coming back to them like the art of the bicycle, allowing them to dive through the coins like porpoises, burrowing through the greenbacks like two gophers, before popping to the surface, tossing the fruits of Dewey's labor up and letting it hit them on the head.

No comments:

Post a Comment