Title: The Reunion At Duckburg
Author: Sosa Lola
Chapter: One
Fandoms: Goof Troop and Ducktales
Written For: The Crossover Contest at Disney-Club and Disney-Fusion.
Summary:The reunion between friends is held at Scrooge McDuck's house. Max Goof doesn't wanna waste his Spring Break on a cantankerous miser and his mischievous nephews, but being an eleven year old kid, he doesn't have a say in this.

Chapter One:

Max lowered the brim of his cap over his eyes, hoping that unseeing what was happening right in front of him would make it unreal somehow. His father's usual howl as he dropped from the top of the car to the ground destroyed that blissful fantasy. He groaned and watched his dad attempt to strap the luggage on top of the car with little to no success – without Max's help, it would take him forever to finish, which was the ultimate plan.

Here's hope his lack of skill in loading will persuade him to cancel this stupid trip.Thinking about their destination again made Max very close to choking himself to death.

He sighed and turned to PJ standing on the other side of the fence. "So, run the list by me again."

"Uh, feed Waffles, water your dad's garden, hide the house keys somewhere my dad can't find."

Max raised an eyebrow. "And?"

"Oh, and tape the new episodes of Hey Arnold!"

"Don't forget." Max straightened his cap and tugged on his new yellow hooded sweatshirt. "God knows if they even heard of TV."

"I don't get it, dude. Isn't Mr. McDuck the richest man in the world?"

"And the biggest cheapskate, too. Dad told me he used to charge his own family two dollars to eat with him. Only if they alsowash the dishes."

"Dude!"

Their conversation was interrupted by a loud honking from the car horn. To Max's dismay, his dad had managed to finish the task and right now he was sitting in the driver's seat, still blaring the car horn. "Hurry up, son! It's a long way to the airport."

Max gripped PJ's jacket and pulled him so close that their noses bumped against each other. "Peej, if you're really my best bud, you'll punch me hard enough to call an ambulance."

PJ chuckled at that – as if Max was actually joking. "You really don't wanna go, do ya?"

"I want you to punch me into a coma, man. Can't drop any more clues than that."

PJ gently tried to free himself from Max's grip, but those smaller hands clutched his jacket like a life raft of hope. "Is it because of the cheapskate?"

Max sighed, letting go of PJ and stuffing his hands in his sweatshirt's pockets. "Not really. It's Mr. D's nephews. We just don't get along." He glared down at his yellow ensemble – his dad thought it was appropriate to dress him up in a color that Huey, Dewey, and Louie didn't wear. "Last time Dad had a reunion with his friends at Mr. D's house, I had frogs stuffed in my bed, which didn't matter because something was added to my dinner to make me ooze from both ends all night. And for a goodbye I was thrown into the fish tank with piranhasin there."

"Ouch!"

"I'm really not looking forward to what they have in store for me this time."

Max winced when his dad beeped the car horn again. "Hurry up, Maxie. Uncle Scrooge won't send another cab if we miss our flight."

"Swell," he muttered and dragged his feet toward their new yellow car that perfectly matched his detested outfit. After their old car had burnt up last Christmas, his dad had worked on extra jobs to be able to buy a new one – especially when Mr. P didn't make it a secret how much it peeved him driving Dad to work every day. At least the new car was a lot cooler than that old red junker-jeep.

He buckled his seatbelt and sank in his chair, gazing resentfully at his dad waving goodbye to PJ. Max had been looking forward to Spring Break and now he had to spend it in a place worse than hell itself.

"Take care of the house, PJ. And my garden. And if there's ever a drought, make sure to save some water for them poor little flowers." Dad wiped a single tear. "Poor Daisy. You will always be remembered."

Max rolled his eyes. A drought in spring?

"Sure thing, Mr. G! Have fun." PJ threw an encouraging nod at Max. "Good luck."

"Thanks, Peej."

"Worst ride since our trip to Las Vegas. Even worse than that and I was kidnapped that time."

"Now, Maxie, it wasn't so bad."

Max dropped the suitcases he was carrying on the ground and glared up at his father. "Dad, the cabwas a farm truck and we had to sit in the back with the sheep. I have sheep poo stuck in the back of my pants!" Wiping his dirty gloves on his smelly sweatshirt – at least, he'd have an excuse to take this off and wear his favorite red T-shirt.

"Mr. Farmer gave us a ride because Uncle Scrooge saved his life once." Dad raised an eyebrow at him. "Now what does that tell you?"

Max scoffed and started dragging the suitcases into the entrance. "That Uncle Scrooge is a tightwad…"

He stopped talking promptly, not because his father shot him a look of warning but because of the humongous mansion in front of them. "Wow. I guess he's not that much of a cheapskate after all."

"I haven't been here for years!" Dad chuckled in excitement and then trotted toward the front door like a little girl, the suitcases in his hands swinging back and forth. Max was really glad no one was around to see that.

Placing one of the suitcases down, Dad searched for a bell to ring. Not finding one, he knocked on the door instead. The household's butler opened the door and ushered them in.

"Ah-yuck! Hi-ya Duckworth." Dad grabbed the refined man's hand and shook the life force almost completely out of it.

Duckworth's lips twitched in displeasure as he wrenched his hand out of Dad's iron grip. "How do you do, Mr. Goof?"

"Never worse. Ah-yuck! Hope we're not the last to arrive?"

"Well, Mr. and Miss Mouse have been escorted to their room a few minutes ago. As well as Miss Duck."

Dad frowned. "What about Mr. Duck?"

"Unfortunately, he won't be able to make it."

Max mentally scoffed. Even the person who had invited them to this stupid reunion had managed not to attend. Lucky bastard.

Dad released a sad sound, letting go of the very heavy suitcase that ended up smashing Max's foot.

"Ouch!"

"Oh, Duckworth, my son Max."

Max held his throbbing foot up and hopped toward the butler – way to make me look like a goof, Dad- and shook hands with Duckworth. "Why does your name have Duck in it when you're not a duck?"

Duckworth regarded him with an expressionless face. "Why do you wear a hoodie in spring?"

Max wrapped his arms around his sweatshirt. "That's what kids wear these days."

He swore he saw a hint of a smirk in Duckworth's lips before the butler turned to an older woman – who was a duck. "This is Mrs. Bentina Beakley. The nanny."

Max snickered. A nanny? Those babies need a nanny?

Dad shook the nanny's hand and Max did the same, being the polite kid he was. A little duckling with a big, pink bow popped her head from behind Mrs. Beakley and grinned at him.

"Oh, this is my granddaughter," Mrs. Beakley said, pushing the girl out of her hiding place. "Webbigail Vanderquack."

The girl extended a hand and giggled timidly. "Call me Webby."

Max smiled and shook her hand. "I'm Max and this is my dad, Goofy."

"Hi-ya, Webby! Gawrsh, I've never felt the glamour in pink before."

Webby blinked.

Dad nudged him and winked. "What do ya say, Maxie?"

Max rolled his eyes. "I'd rather glamour in red, Dad. Thanks."

"Oh, here come the boys," Mrs. Beakley said, looking up the stairs.

Those brats would definitely make an entrance; either slide down the railings or down the staircase using a toboggan. Maybe holler something offensive as they did it. Or maybe, they'd creep up on him from behind and knock him down. Max twirled around, but no one was behind him.

Sighing in relief, he looked back at the stairs and to his surprise, the three troublemakers were actually walkingdown the stairs like three well-bred gentlemen. The nanny's influence, obviously.

Last time Max had seen them was four years ago; they'd been shorter, slimmer, and wore the same color. They also had the word "evil" drilled on their foreheads in a way that couldn't be concealed by their fake innocent expressions. These older versions looked, well, innocent. Really innocent. He couldn't read anything on their foreheads.

They politely shook hands with Max's dad. "Hi Mr. Goofy."

"Hello, boys. Shame your Uncle Donald can't be here for the reunion."

Their smiles melted into pouts. "He cancelled last minute," Louie mumbled. "Said he couldn't get a day off."

"Uh, Sir," Duckworth said, carrying Dad's suitcases. "Shall I take you to your room?"

"Oh, Duckworth, we'll take care of the luggage. C'mon, Maxie." Dad pried the luggage out of Duckworth's hands. The butler shrugged and then led the way upstairs, followed by Dad, Mrs. Beakley and Webby.

Max carried one of the suitcases with a grimace – these were already too heavy to drag into the house, how was he supposed to carry them up the stairs? As he reached for the other one, a green-sleeved hand possessed it first. He blinked up at Louie's smiling face. "Want some help?"

Max smiled back, relief washing over him. "Thanks. Um, so, uh, where's Uncle Scrooge?"

"Uncle Scrooge?" A mean expression spread across Huey's face. "He's not your uncle."

Max was taken aback by the matching smirks on Huey and Dewey's faces. Feeling his insides boiling with anger, he snatched the suitcase from Louie's hand and lugged both heavy suitcases up the stairs.

They had him fooled for a second, but once a menace, always a menace. He should have known the good-manners thing was just an act in front of his father and the other adults. He was notgoing to sit back and wait to be pranked. He'd eat them for lunch before they eat him for dinner.

Massive dining room: 2 P.M.: dish of the day was homemade stakes and french-fries. Max didn't doubt that this meal would kick the butt of all the meals he'd had his whole life. He smiled gratefully at Mrs. Beakley on his left, and she repaid his smile by adding more french-fries to his plate. Max looked around the faces in the room: Dad on his right had poured all the mushroom sauce on his stake 'causing Mickey, next to him, to glower at him. Next to Mickey was his girlfriend Minnie, who delicately placed her napkin on her lap.

On the opposite side of Minnie was Daisy, who insulted the food with her droopy face. On her right sat the nephews with Webby on the opposite side of Mrs. Beakley. Max would have preferred having Webby in front of him instead of Louie as she was the only kid in this house who seemed to like his presence.

Mr. McDuck's chair at the head of the table was empty. Max was amused by the dollar sign on the chair – in fact, almost everything in this house had a dollar sign painted or carved on it. This Scrooge McDuck dude was obsessed! Too obsessed that he couldn't spare a second to greet his guests since, of course, it had no profit in it.

Max scarfed down his food like a hungry, homeless puppy – better enjoy the small blessings of this less-than-stellar vacation. Mocking whispers reached his ears followed by derisive laughter; he looked up to see Huey and Dewey eying him with scornful pity. They probably didn't get the memo that he and his dad had moved out of the trailer over a year ago. He choked on the big piece of meat in his mouth and started coughing really hard, his dad patting his back gently.

A glass of water appeared in his field of vision. Max looked up and met Louie's worried gaze. Oh, no, he was not going to spend the night tossing his stake down the toilet. Accepting the glass from Louie, Max pretended to lose his grip on it and spilled the water on the table. "Oops, sorry," he said, throwing a meaningful stare at Louie's surprised face.

"So, having Pete as your neighbor, that must be a pain in the…"

"Mickey!" Minnie chided.

Mickey flustered and looked around the table where the children outnumbered the adults. "Oh, uh… ear. 'Cause, you know, he's loud."

"Not as loud as me. Ah-yuck." Dad dug his fork into the stake and stuffed it all in his mouth, demonstrating what he just said by chomping on it at full volume. Max looked at the others in embarrassment, everyone looked like they wanted to jam their forks into their ears.

Dad chuckled, spitting out some of his food while a trace of the mushroom sauce dripped from his mouth. "Why, me and Maxie, we always rock the house with the cleaning song, especially when clean the windows with towels using our booties."

Huey and Dewey snickered openly while Louie tried to stifle his giggles.

"Daaaad," Max drawled, wishing he could disappear into the chair.

"That sounds like fun. I wanna hear the cleaning song," Webby said.

"Ah-yuck, it's our jelly! C'mon, Maxie, how about we show them?"

"How about we don't! Sit down, Dad. We're eating lunch."

Daisy set down her fork; her stake untouched, and sighed. "It's a shame Donald isn't here."

Whatever.Max would pay his blood and soul to not be here. As he stabbed his skate with the knife a little too aggressively, he noted the saddened expressions on the nephews' faces. For a second, he considered feeling sorry for them, but then Huey noticed him staring and threw a dirty glare at him. Max glared back, and then lowered his gaze to the envelope resting underneath his feet. He smirked at the 'Rattlesnake Eggs' he'd written on it in big letters. A harmless little prank, but if he could just get a little jump of fear out of it, he'd be satisfied.

"Duckworth, have you heard from Uncle Scrooge?" Minnie asked the butler as he walked into the room.

"Mr. MacDuck is terribly sorry he had to miss lunch. He is a very busy man."

Mickey placed his napkin on the table. "I hope he can make it to dinner. Minnie and I would like to invite you all to the new French restaurant here in Duckburg."

"Uncle Scrooge won't say no to free dinner." Minnie giggled.

"Am I invited, too?" Webby asked in a small, insecure voice. Max wondered if not being related to Mr. McDuck meant that Webby was often excluded from various family activities.

"Of course you are, dear," Mickey said. "In fact, everybody is invited."

As hollers of joy echoed around the room, Max noticed the nephews leaving. He fetched the envelope and hopped off his chair. Walking out of the dining room, he found them heading up the stairs.

"Yohoo, boys, look what I've got," Max called, waving the letter.

Huey glared down at him before looking back at his brothers. "Ignore him."

Max watched them continue their way up the stairs and pursed his lips in annoyance. He should have known they'd give him the cold shoulder. There had to be a way to get their attention. Running up the stairs after them, he yelled, "Wait! I got something for you."

Dewey turned around and crossed his arms over his chest. "What is it?"

"Um, a letter from your uncle Donald."

Huey and Louie froze on top of the stairs while Dewey snatched the letter from Max and tore it open without even glancing at what was written on the envelope. The band and cardboard inside started to unwind and rattle against the paper creating the expected awesome fearful rattle of snakes hatching.

Dewey's eyes widened in alarm, and Max got his little jump of fear. But whatever laugh he wanted to let out died in his throat as Dewey's foot slipped and he ended up falling down the stairs.

Max watched in horror as Dewey banged every step on the way down until he landed on his front, motionless. Huey and Louie ran down past Max toward their brother and sat by his side, shaking him frantically.

Max took numb steps down the stairs, feeling a thick lump in his throat. Huey turned Dewey gently to lie on his back, the injured boy's face congested in pain. "My ankle," he whimpered.

Daisy came out of the dining room and screamed when her gaze landed on Dewey. She rushed to his side at once, taking Huey's place as he got up to his feet and shot Max a furious stare. "What the heck did you do?"

"I didn't… I…"

"Are you out of your mind? You're as much of a goof-up as your stupid dad!"

Insulting his dad was so uncalled for, it set Max's teeth on edge. "Hey, I remember being the victim of your incredibly dangerous practical jokes."

"Oh my God, that was four years ago. We were just seven." Huey threw out his arms in frustration. "We're too old for this now."

Mickey and Minnie appeared in an instant, followed by his dad, Duckworth, Mrs. Beakley and Webby. "What happened?" Mickey demanded.

Mrs. Beakley gasped. "Oh God, Dewey, are you all right?"

"I'm okay," Dewey gritted out. "But I sprained my ankle."

"How did this happen?" Minnie asked.

Huey pointed at Max with a shaking finger. "He did it."

Dad looked at him in complete shock. "Maxie?"

Swallowing thickly, Max looked at Mickey examining Dewey's leg. He could take anything but that look in his father's face.

"Do you feel pain somewhere else?" Mickey asked.

"No, just my ankle."

"Then it's safe to take you to your room." Mickey took charge of the situation, scooping Dewey up in his arms. "Duckworth, call the family doctor. Mrs. Beakley, get the first aid kit."

Duckworth headed toward the phone on the table while Mrs. Beakley disappeared down the hall. Everybody else followed Mickey up the stairs, except Max and his father.

Max swallowed again and gazed down at his untied sneakers.

"What you just did was… disrespectable and desdicable."

"You mean "despicable"?"

"Don't correct me!" Dad snapped. Max flinched. "Son, we're hosts in this house. And you failed to respect your guests."

He opened his mouth, but one look at his dad's resolved face, and he snapped his lips shut.

Dad sighed. "Because of that, we're not joining the others at the restaurant. You and I will stay here and make ourselves a sandwich."

Max blinked up at his father. "Dad…"

"Yes, you heard me, for the very first time in your life, you're grounded."

Aside from the sprained ankle, Dewey had a few minor bruises that Mickey was able to take care of before the doctor's arrival. Even though the doctor had recommended a few days of rest, Dewey insisted on having tonight's dinner at the restaurant as planned. He refused Mickey's offer to cancel the reservations. So, everybody was going to the restaurant tonight, except Max and his dad.

Max peered out from the safety of his room to the hallway leading to the nephews' bedroom. He could hear the adults' laughter drifting from the last, closed door down the hall; their laughter lifted some of the heavy load on his chest. Just a little. When he caught the doorknob turning, he shut the door quickly and jumped on his bed, pretending to read one of his father's "How to" books. When his dad didn't come into their room as he expected, he tossed the book aside and walked out to the hallway.

No one was at sight, so Max tip toed his way toward the nephews' room. Hearing Mrs. Beakley scolding the kids down the stairs, Max quickened his pace until he was literally inside his goal.

His sigh of relief was cut midway as his eyes locked with Dewey's, who was sitting on the bottom mattress of the bunk bed. On reflex, Max lowered his gaze down in shame. He took a couple of steps ahead and with a small push of courage, he smiled up at Dewey. "Hey."

Dewey ignored him by turning his attention back to the comic book in his hands. The ice bag on his ankle made Max's heart sag down to his knees. "I have a bunk bed, too," he blurted out.

Dewey arched an eyebrow.

Feeling his cheeks burning in embarrassment, Max was in a full-blown blather mode, "Uh, it's not as nice as this one. But at least I got both beds for myself." Shut up, just shut up now! "Though I gotta admit it's more fun having PJ using that other bed." I said SHUT UP!

Dewey chuckled in amusement, making Max relax a little. "I'm really sorry, Dewey," he said sincerely.

Dewey lost his smile, but at least he didn't look like he wanted to set him on fire.

"I was a jerk," Max went on. "I shouldn't… "

"What's he doing here?"

Max spun around and flinched at the fierce glare on Huey's face. Louie and Webby looked at him sadly, but said nothing.

"I was just…"

"Get out," Huey said dryly.

Head bowed and shoulders sagged, Max dragged his feet out of the room, feeling their heated stares boring into him. Out of the room, he winced when the door was slammed shut behind him.

Max looked at the panels packed with action in the latest Batman issue, but didn't have the heart to read a word. He put the comic book on the nightstand, flopped back onto the bed and puffed up the pillow under his head. His leg swinging ideally, he stared at his father's back as he busied himself making half a dozen of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.

Dad put three sandwiches on a plate and handed it to him. "Here you go, Maxie."

Max sat up and reached for the plate. "Thanks, Dad." He placed it on his lap, throwing unsure glances at his father. "Are you… are you still mad at me?"

A warm smile crossed Dad's lips. "No, son. As long as you feel rumors about what you did."

"I do. I'm totally rumors – eh, remorseful."

Someone knocked on their door, and then Mickey barged in clad in a fancy suit. "C'mon, Goofy, we're…" he trailed off, looking at them in their pajamas and the plates of sandwiches. "Aren't you guys ready?"

Dad shook his head. "We're not going, Mick."

"No, Dad, you go." Max put aside his plate and walked over his father's bed, taking his hands and pulling him up to his feet. "You came all the way here to hang out with your friends. You shouldn't be stuck home with me."

"But I can't leave you by yourself. Even Duckworth won't be here."

Max felt Mickey's hand on his shoulder. "Goofy, you two come with us." The hand squeezed gently, and Max looked up at the tender smile Mickey directed at him. "We're on vacation after all."

Max shook his head, politely taking Mickey's hand off his shoulder. "No, I don't deserve to go after what I did." He looked up at his father. "But, Dad, you go. You shouldn't be punished for my mistakes."

"But I made all these sandwiches."

"I'll eat them all. The more the merrier."

Dad gave him a look.

"Uh, I'm a growing boy?" Max went for the puppy dog eyes.

Dad, of course, couldn't resist. "Well, if I'm going, I'm gonna bring you one of them duck-shaped tin-foil thingies."

"You don't have to. You'll find me all tucked in and sound asleep."

Dad's face clouded with worry. "Are you sure you'll be okay on your own?"

"Dad, I'm a sixth grader. I can be home alone."

Home Alone?! Way to jinx it, Smart Pants. All alone in a burglar-magnet mansion – and yes, he did face down a couple of creepy burglars on his own before but he'd only survived because of the traps his dad had set up. Mr. McDuck had most likely set up some traps – a greedy miser like him would never give a thief a chance to steal anything from him. But did this thought calm him down?

Hiccup. Hiccup. No, siree, it did not.

He was tucked in all right, but sound asleep he was not. Pulling up the covers over himself, Max couldn't stop the hiccups of fear no matter how much water he drank. Why in hell did he convince his father to go out with every single person in the house?

He needed a distraction. He could spend the next three to four hours talking to PJ on the phone until everybody came back from the restaurant. There was no phone in this room, but he did spot one in the lobby, the one Duckworth used to call the doctor. A grin finally found its way to his quivering lips. Tossing the covers away and putting on his sneakers, Max scampered for the door.

He stopped halfway when he realized he was still wearing the ugly yellow pajamas his dad had bought him. If his hiccups wouldn't attract the burglars' attention, these bright yellow PJs would.

Quickly dressing up in his favorite ensemble, Max made his way through the halls and down the stairs. Creepy, dark shadows surrounded the place, making him even more scared than he was in his room. Better find a light switch, but first he had to call PJ. He had to hear someone's voice – unless it was a burglar's voice – just so he could calm down.

The only problem in the phone-call plan was the phone bill that would probably get his dad in trouble. But as his hiccups increased in frequency, Max knew this was the only way to keep himself sane until his father returned.

Grabbing the phone, he started to dial PJ's home number.

"Who's this?"

Max screamed and threw the phone away, running around the lobby in a desperate attempt to find a place to hide. He rushed toward the table on the right side of the front door and jumped under it, his knee banging the foot of the table 'causing the duck statue on top to slip. He covered his ears and bit on his lip, waiting for the piercing crash.

It never came. For a second he thought that his hands did block the sound, until he heard an angry grunt. "Look what ye almost did, ya bampot! Ye almost broke a pricy piece of rubbish." The hiccups came back at a full force, and Max smacked his hands over his mouth. "Don't tell me Webby brought over a stray pig."

Something about that accent and those rolled Rs made him a little suspicious about this mysterious man. Then suddenly, he was pulled out of his hiding place by a rough hand grabbing him by the collar. He was lifted up to the same height of an old, angry duck, who narrowed his eyes at him through his pince-nez glasses.

"Now who do we have here?"

Max looked over the duck that held him off the floor: the top hat, the blue frock coat, and the scariest scowl he'd ever seen. "Are you Mr. McDuck?"

"The one and only, and ye are…" Mr. McDuck looked at him closely before his eyes went wide and his hand let go of him. Max ended up falling on his butt.

"Uh, don't tell me. You're Goofy's son? Such resemblance. Ye look exactly like yer father when he was yer age."

Max grimaced and rubbed on his throbbing butt. "I get that a lot."

The old duck lost his scowl and a happy expression filled his face. So, being the polite kid he was, Max rose up to his feet and extended a hand. "I'm Max."

Mr. Scrooge shook his hand with a smile. "So, Max, why aren't ye at the restaurant with the others?"

Max scratched the back of his neck, his face flushing. "Well, Mr. McDuck…"

"Oh, laddie, call me Uncle Scrooge like everybody else."

"I don't think so," he muttered and watched Mr. Scrooge walk over to the phone and put it back in its place. "Uh, Mr. McDuck, why aren't youat the restaurant?"

The scowl returned to the old man's face as he bent down to take a cane that was lying on the floor. "Because if I lay my guard down I'm going to lose the most important treasure I have."

"Oooh, treasure." Max whistled in excitement before a scary thought crossed his mind. "Uh, does losing your treasure involve burglars?"

"The Beagle Boys sent me a letter threatening to rob the Money Bin tomorrow and I know they're not after me money."

"Why do you think that?"

""Cause I know they're working for Magica De Spell."

"The who De what?"

Mr. Scrooge didn't answer him. He straightened his top hat and walked toward the front door with his cane.

Max's heartbeat sped up. "Um, where are you going?"

"The Money Bin." Mr. Scrooge looked at him over his shoulder. "Do you want to come with me?"

Stuffing his hands in his pockets, Max looked down at the floor. "Oh, I can't. I'm sorta grounded."

"Grounded? On a vacation?"

"Well, I did this prank on Dewey and strained his ankle."

"Oh, if I had a nickel for every practical joke those nephews of mine have pulled since they came here…" He paused, considered what he said, and then shook his head. "Uh, cross that thought."

Max chuckled.

Mr. Scrooge gave him a flicker of a smile. "So, what do you say?"

Max dragged a hand through his hair. "I don't know."

"Suit yourself." Mr. Scrooge was about to leave, but he stopped and turned around, throwing him an evil smirk. "You know, the Beagle Boys may think they could find what they're looking for in me empty house."

Max hiccupped and then covered his mouth with his hands. "It-it's n-not em-empty if I'm h-here."

"How threatening is a little boy to three or more grown men?"

"So, for my safety, I have to go with you." He was already out of the door when he said that, hearing Mr. Scrooge chuckling behind him.

Spanking Max's butt with his cane, Mr. Scrooge walked past him with quick steps. "Pick up your pace, me lad. We don't have all night."

Max arched an eyebrow at him. "If you wanna get there faster, you better call for a taxi."

"Nonsense. Besides it's only a brisk four miles walk."