KrissyKat91: I would like to put it out there right now that I only know a handful of very basic words in Spanish, absolutely nothing of Portuguese, and will thus be relying on Google Translate. Yes, I'm well aware of the quality or lack thereof of that website, but it's all I could ever find that will translate full sentences. To any native speakers, please do not get offended if there are any stupid mistakes. If there are, I fully expect you to tell me so I can fix it as quickly as possible.
Cast
(in order of appearance)
Panchito Pistoles - Carlos Alazraqui
Donald Duck - Tony Anselmo
Prologue: Just Keep Walking
Just keep walking. Just keep walking. Just keep walking.
The words drummed in his head in time with the beat of his heart as the tall bird stumbled down the road.
Just keep walking. Just keep walking. Just keep walking.
Glancing down to make sure the document folder was still tucked firmly in the lining of his bolero jacket, he forced a few more steps out of his aching feet.
Just keep walking. Just keep walking. Just keep walking.
He'd managed to cross the border into America without getting caught or shot, hitching rides when he could, stowing away on freight trains, mostly walking or flat out running from place to place. All in the hope that the bird he was desperately seeking still lived where he said he did, all to protect the contents of the folder. In it were bank statements, tax forms, deeds and bills of sale, anything and everything he could get his hands on to prove that the rancho(1) and hacienda(2) belonged to him and not that… that… that stupid greedy gringo(3)!
Just keep walking. Just keep walking. Just keep walking.
Spying a large sign on the side of the road, he slowed his pace, hoping to find out where he was. After several seconds of blank staring, his tired brain finally translated the English words into something he could understand.
Welcome to Duckburg.
The rust feathered bird wasn't sure whether to crow in triumph, laugh hysterically, or just cry. After over a month of almost nonstop travel, occasionally backtracking to make sure he hadn't been followed, after weeks of little to no food and sleeping with one eye open if he slept at all, he'd finally reached his destination. All he had to do now was find his friend's house and he could finally rest.
There was just one problem. Now that he'd stopped walking, he couldn't seem to start again. In fact, his legs felt like they were about to—
Whump.
—give out.
Face down on the road, black spots dancing at the edges of his vision, the russet bird groaned in mingled frustration and exhaustion. So close. He was so close to his goal! He couldn't stop now!
The roar of an approaching vehicle sounded from somewhere behind him, and he struggled to get up, to move out of the way. It was no use. His whole body felt like a lump of lead.
Run over when I am so close to help, he thought miserably. This is the final indignity.
It seemed, however, that fate was going to be kind for once. With the loud shriek of rubber tires on asphalt the car swerved around him and screeched to a stop. Footsteps—the distinct thwap-thwap-thwap of a bird with webbed feet—hurried to his side. A pair of hands grabbed his shoulders and gently, carefully, rolled him onto his back.
"Panchito!"
A familiar pair of light blue eyes stared worriedly into his own.
"Panchito Pistoles! Can you hear me?!"
The Mexican rooster smiled weakly. "Buenos días, mi amigo(4)." And then the black spots multiplied, and he knew no more.
(1) rancho - exactly what it sounds like. In this case it's a cattle ranch.
(2) hacienda - an estate, or the main house on the estate.
(3) gringo - from what I understand it basically means foreigner, and is only an insult when the context of the sentence means it to be an insult. In this case, yes, it was meant to be an insult. It was the only word I could think of to use without moving into cussing territory, and I don't cuss. Ever.
(4) Buenos días, mi amigo - Good morning, my friend