"You repulse me, you bumbling retard!" Donald began, "I don't know what crime I committed to be stuck with a douchebag like you!" between his speech impediment and the vomit, his words became more and more incomprehensible.
"Gwarsh, Donald!" Goofy said, twiddling his thumbs with an expression of both fear and concern, "are you feeling alright?"
Donald screamed angrily, gurgling insults that no one could understand.
Sora turned back, finally noticing that his companions had stopped walking behind him. "Oh my gosh!" he yelled "You guys, what's going on? Are you OK?"
"Nothing is OK!" Donald managed to choke out, then gagged on his words and fell to his knees.
"Oh no, oh no!" Sora said, "I recognize these symptoms! He has bird flu!"
"Gwarsh Sora, what can we do?"
"Nothing," Sora sighed, "he'll be dead within the hour."
"At least we've got each other," Goofy said, though his head hung limply from his shoulders, defeated.
"Not for long," Sora said, "we've caught it too." Goofy looked on in shock. "And who knows how long he's had it? He could have spread it to everyone we've come in contact with!"
And he had.
"Heck," Sora went on, "he could have spread it to the game itself! Infected gamers through CDs and memory cards!"
And he had.
And now everyone will die.
