Title: pass the plate, please

Author: Digimon Empress Yaten (de yaten)

Notes: Written for the Kingdom Hearts kink meme. Weird. Dark, strong language. Mentions of violence and sex.

Disclaimer: I don't own Kingdom Hearts or its characters. I don't claim to own them.

Hey, hey -- calm down, don't have a cow man, chill out, relax, CHILL-AX. He gave him fair warning. Fair is fair is fair, amirite? 'Course I'm right. Always am. And I say he was fair, right, did no wrong other than maybe he should be more careful taking care of his clothes.

But he did give him a warning. I'm a man of my word. (Like the Joker, but with less pizazz.)

You see, Sora said, Sora told him, "If you pop that gum treat me like I'm a five-year old look at me with lusty eyes EvEr TaLk To Me LiKe ThAt AgAin Donald, one... more... time..."

I'm going to kill you.

But he didn't say that you see. Not the killing part. Maybe not all the other parts, either, but I won't tell you which was true and which was lies, lies. But he didn't (cross my heart) say he'd kill the poor duck. Not aloud, not with his i see dead people voice ringing in the ears of the duck/dog/mouse/heartless. That wouldn't jive, wouldn't click, would be way too violent and upfront for a proper pretty Keyblade bearer.

And, I mean... it wasn't like Sora would kill someone, something, for no reason AT ALL! He was the Keyblade bearer! He got a lot of exercise! Exercise gives you endorphins, and endorphins make you happy... happy people just don't kill their husbands Donald Duck for abso-fucking-lutely no reason at all.

I promise you that.

But, well. I guess I'm getting caught up in wordplay, in semantics. Doesn't really matter what Sora did or didn't say - are you calling me a liar? - anyway, because, well.

Because Donald is dead.

Oh, yes. Quite dead. Dead as a doornail, swimming with the fishes, eating dirt pie, he's gone to meet his maker

Gone to meet his maker, yes... in an easy bake oven. And if you've owned an easy bake oven - who didn't? (i didn't daddy hit me when i asked) - then you know how hard, how annoying, how slowwwwwww it is to cook real food in it. Real food. Like like... like... something other than chalky tasting cake mix and cookie mix and brownie mix that turns everything (even my doggy's ashes) into the same cardboard sidewalk-chalk flavored shit that would take about 2 hours less in a real oven, if one was so inclined. He should have used a real oven. Would've tasted better. Juicier. Meatier. Would've cooked quicker, too. But Sora's mommy put her head inside the real oven (too big for the easy bake) so the real stove was more or less preoccupied. I guess he could've cooked Donald on top of the stove, and sat on mommy's back like he used to when he was little, but the smell of burnt hair was a bitch much. Just a bit much, I mean. Would've ruined the taste and...

But you see, I've gone off track. Fuck you. You made me do it.

What was I saying?



Oh, yes.

Donald is dead.

Donald is deliciously dead, if you know what I mean. I hope you do. I think you do, because if you don't, then you've got the reading comprehension of Goofy Goofton. Or Goofy Jones. Whatever the hell his last name is. He's kind of stupid. And annoying. But at least I can understand what he's saying most of the time. Without those freaking subtitles floating around in the air, nobody (get it, ha ha ha?) would understand anything dear old dead delicious duck says. Or said, sorry. The whole being dead and all makes it past tense. Past, present, future. S'all the same to me, baby. Sugar.

Speaking of sugar, Sora never thought duck would taste so... nice with a thick sweet sauce. Sweet sauce and a tortilla. Duck tacos.

His first bite into that meaty meaty meal was heavenly. Juices dribbling down his mouth and staining his shirt (his mom always made him wear a bib like a baaaby, but no more mommy darling) and him moaning OUT LOUD (what would the neighbors think?!) because it was just that. damn. good.

So damn. good. in fact, that he went back for seconds - oh, sure, Donald was trying to scream and yelp and yack and quack, but without the subtitles it was impossible to understand what he was saying. 'Course, the belt wrapped around his beak helped, too. But, whatever. Details details. Going back for seconds was fu-uuun because he got to try a different piece of meat. A bit of the ass. He giggled, you know - I would too! Who wouldn't? It'd be a thrilly chilly funny honey bunny dealio to say you just ate a piece of Donald Duck's ass.

Amirite? 'Course I'm right. Always am, you know.

Pass the plate, Sora. FUCK. F-F-F-UCK. Sorry squared. Where are my manners? (in the basement, with Kairi, eating rrrrats?)

Pass the plate, Sora, please.