Everything's Just Ducky

Part 4

by Mary Christmas (unicorn_76010 at lycos.com)
9/22/01

Beth frantically kicked at the vine, to no avail. It was stronger than it looked. Then she pulled out a pocketknife, yet another old-fashioned tool that had come in handy many times, and began sawing at the grasping green giant. 'Great,' she thought, 'Now he's got me doing it.' She imagined she heard a scream of pain, and the thing quickly unwound and withdrew deeper into the tunnel.

Darkwing had by that time caught up with her, and rushed past, pursuing the retreating vine. Beth rose on shaky legs and followed, pulling her light out. Again, she was brought up short by a strange sight. Standing in the middle of the access tunnel was Darkwing fighting with another duck. Only it wasn't a duck, it was...a plant. It was green from the top of its head to its legs, which were brown. On its head was was some sort of purple flower.

"Stop!" she commanded them, trying to get her bearings straight. She wondered what Sherlock Holmes would do in this sort of case.

The two ducks stopped what they were doing, which was trying to hurt the other in any way possible. The plant-duck had his uh...arms? vines? wrapped around Darkwing's body to suffocate him. Darkwing had the muzzle of that strange weapon in the plant-duck's face.

"Before I let you continue," Beth went on once she had their attention, "I want to know what's going on here!"

"It's...above...your...head...little...girl...." Darkwing gasped out.

Beth glared at him. I am 'not' a little girl! And as for it being over my head, well, obviously you come from some other dimension, because the ducks here don't talk nor do they walk and act like humans. And they definitely do not ever look like plants." She turned to glare at the offending plant-duck, having already decided that this was just a crazy dream she was having, and it didn't matter what she said or did; she'd wake up.

The plant-duck quailed under her glare. Darkwing took advantage of his momentary lapse in concentration and fired the gun. It released a pellet of some sort of gas, and the plant-duck disappeared.

Beth whirled on the duck prepared to give him a tonguelashing, only to be stopped by voices echoing in the tunnel.

"Dad?!"

"Mr. Darkwing?!"

"DW?!"

Beth looked at Darkwing in surprise, as he groaned. "You're a dad?"

"What? No, I am not a dad. Obviously Gosalyn is lost, and I have no idea who she is, so there."

"You don't know who she is but you know her name?" Beth asked skeptically, not really surprised at this crazy duck's attitude.

"Uh, well uh...you see...."

"Dad!" A little duckling that looked around nine years old ran up to Darkwing. "I thought we'd lost you! When Negaduck opened that portal, and pushed you through, and then sent Megavolt and Bushroot through to make sure you didn't come back, I thought you were a goner for sure!"

"Well, hello there, little girl," Darkwing said stiffly, "Are you lost?"

Beth rolled her eyes. "You have to live with this?" she asked Gosalyn with sympathy, and a little bit of jealousy. Having a dad, no matter how crazy and egotistical, was better than having no family at all.

Gosalyn nodded. "Yeah, but you get used to it after a while."

"Oh, hey there, Gos, I see you found DW. Boy, we sure were worried about you." A large bird of some sort came walking into the tunnel. He actually stood over Beth, but he wasn't frightening in the least. He had a friendly smile, and warm eyes. Right behind him was a small gosling with blond hair and glasses.

"Oh, good, Mr. Darkwing, sir, we can go back home now," the gosling said with a nasaly voice. "This place gives me the creeps."

"Yes, I suppose we can. Well, young lady, it was nice meeting you, and you really should be home in bed at this time of night. After all little girls need their beauty sleep."

Beth growled. "You had better get him out of my sight before I do something I'll regret."

The gosling nodded and quickly pushed some buttons on a small rectangular device. The four birds disappeared, leaving Beth alone in the tunnel. Sighing softly, she slowly walked back to her shelter. She climbed inside and fell asleep, hoping that when she woke up, this would be one dream she would forget.

The End...or is it? Muahahahahahahah.


What do you guys think? Should I write a sequel where the Terror that Flaps meets Sherlock Holmes and annoys a grown up Lestrade? Or should I give up on the idea now before it goes too far and I have yet another unfinished story on my hands?

THE END

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