Cousin Lucky
A.N: It's been a long time since I was able to write creatively. This is how demanding my full-time job is. I intend to post a new chapter to my Top Cat story this month, and I've decided to also post this oneshot in the DuckTales category because first, it needs much more love. Second, it pulls a lot from Carl Barks's awesome comics. Although we only see Donald and Gladstone as guest stars in the series, they are still very much a part of that world, and it's the right place to put them. I've also taken a little inspiration from Don Rosa's work for this story, but I'm keeping Gladstone's personality more like his DuckTales self, in which he's a more pleasant goose.
Did you hear the news about DuckTales getting a new series in 2017?! Please, Disney…make it wonderful. You did a great job with DuckTales Remastered, you can do it again.
.
.
.
.
.
oOoOoOoOoOo
Auntie Daphne did a weird thing whenever she saw people, thought Donald as he stood by his Gramma and watched her be caught into a fierce hug – she always screamed and threw her arms out whenever she walked through a door.
Gramma didn't seem to mind it though, and she hugged his Auntie (Dad's sister, so Gramma's girl?) back just as fiercely.
"You're back for good now, right?" Grandma Duck asked, moving her hands to her daughter's shoulders and giving her the look over her glasses.
"Yessir, Ma! It's so good to finally be back! And until we settle on the new house, we're gonna be staying on your head for the rest of the month!"
"It's your home, love," Grandma Duck said affectionately as Daphne turned to Donald.
She got down on one knee to look the little duckling in the eyes before - again – screaming, and swooping him up into her arms and crushing him against her chest.
"Donnie!" she cried, nuzzling her beak into his soft baby head. "You've grown up, little man! Wait here, wait right here and see what Auntie got you!"
She put him back down, and five-year old Donald only cast the briefest of glances at the goose standing beside his aunt with a white bundle in his arms, and wondered if he was her husband. But like all little children, he was much more interested in what Auntie got him.
Daphne's right arm disappeared only momentarily behind the farmhouse's doorframe. When it appeared again, it was holding a tawny rocking horse wearing a cowboy hat.
Grandma Duck's hand rose to pinch the flesh between her eyes, and rolled them in exasperation at her daughter as Donald practically had a fit. "Thanks, Daphne - now I know there will be no sleep tonight."
Donald dragged his prize a couple feet away, and started rocking aggressively. The horse skid loudly across the wooden boards and Grandma Duck turned around; about to tell him off for the racket, but his ecstatic laughter and round, happily-flushed face melted her heart into submitting. Again.
She turned back to her child. "Now, where is my grandson?"
Donald stopped his attack on the floorboards, and looked back at the grownups curiously. He saw his Auntie do the girl-iest version of a secretive giggle he had ever seen (yuck!) and she wrapped her arm around her goose partner and pulled him into the house. She closed the door behind them and quickly pulled the drapes closed over the near window. The room darkened considerably in the absence of sunlight.
"Daphne?"
"I'll explain everything now, Ma! But first, meet your third angel!"
The goose carefully handled the bundle in his arms to ease it into Gramma's arms. Donald, very curious now, got off his horse and dragged it behind him to come see what on earth his Gramma was looking at.
Grandma Duck pulled back the blankets, and a small white head appeared. Underneath the odd four-leaf crown the gosling was wearing for some reason Donald didn't understand, several feathers were ruffled into tiny rolls all the way to the back of his head. The gosling uttered a happy: "Hi, Gramma!" and wrapped his tiny hands around Gramma's neck.
Gramma's face melted. She cooed at the boy in her arms. "Hello, Gladstone..ah, Daph, he's perfect."
Why perfect? Donald didn't know what this gosling had that he didn't. They both had beaks. They both had feathers. They both talked. Why did Gramma think he was perfect?
He felt it, but Donald was still too young to understand jealousy for what it was.
oOoOoOoOoOo
"You went with Goostave on his business trip, thinking you'll be back in a couple of months…"
"And we ended up staying there for four years," finished Daphne with a single firm nod.
It was one of the strangest stories Grandma Duck had ever heard. Donald, finally exhausted from playing on his new horse, leaned against her sleepily in her favorite armchair. They sat around the warmly-cackling fire, sipping through their third pot of tea. Outside, only the sound of crickets and the faint voice of the wind blowing in the old willow tree could be heard.
"What Scrooge McDuck wouldn't give to get a look at that place," said Grandma with a laugh.
"Oh no! No no! My beak is sealed!" cried Daphne. "Me and Gus've sworn to never let a breathing creature know of the tribe's existence!"
"You had always been a lucky girl, Daphie, but I never imagined it would lead you to the largest diamond caves in the world."
Daphne looked down on her own little boy, dozing in her lap. "I know, Ma. I mean, I know I'm luckier than the average duck, but even I have my bad days! Gladdy's fortune is gonna be something else. You'll see."
"I'll say. Both of you share the same birthday, right?"
"Yep, but that's not all there is to it," said the young mother, tilting her head playfully. "I still haven't told you the best part of our crazy adventure."
"What's that?"
"The Elder Alpha of the tribe predicted our son's future, and my Gladdy is going to become the luckiest goose in the world!"
"Bless Pa's soul," said Grandma Duck, placing a hand to her heart. "Can he see into the future? Is it because Gladdy shares your birthday under the sign of the Distelfink?"
"No, there's more to it than just that. And it's all thanks to Gus. Their gift to us for everything he had done for them was to grant our son eternal good fortune."
Grandma Duck didn't really understand how a tribe of wolves could have any say in her grandson's fortune, but if Daphne was going to launch into another dramatic telling of those insane four years, she was going to have to make more tea. Thankfully, she already had a sizeable stash of cookies saved fresh and crispy for occasions like this. "I'll be right in a jiff. You must've been very happy, Goostave," she called to her son-in-law as she exited to the kitchen quickly, leaving Donald to lie down in the warmth she had left.
In the kitchen, she could still hear her son-in-law's incredulous voice quite clearly. "You have got to be joking. Daphne might have it in her to even deal with green aliens from Mars, but I never wanted that job in the first place!" said the goose in his low, even voice. "I go thinking it was an offshore medical exchange, but instead I get kidnapped by a pack of wolves from the Himalayas who have never seen a goose before! They put me in their zoo!
"If Daphne hadn't come with me, you would not have heard of me again."
Ah, Grandma Duck found she actually missed Goostave's self-importance. Not that she would say it to his face ever.
"It was just my good luck that I insisted on going with him on the exchange," said Daphne as Grandma Duck came back into the living room with the tray. "At least we were together, and those guys didn't turn out bad after all." She leaned and took her husband's hand in her own. It still confused Grandma, how an overly-optimistic, bubbly, social butterfly like her Daphie ever fell in love with a serious doctor like Goostave. He was also quite a few years older than her. She admittedly had her doubts when her daughter first introduced him to her years ago, but the days have passed, and her girl had never cried because of him even once.
"Though I still think," said Grandma Duck, sitting back in her armchair and taking Donald's head in her lap. She looked at her daughter reproachfully. "That you were too easy with your egg. Things could have ended very badly, Daphne."
"Ah, Ma, it's over. Lighten up; I see the world a little brighter than everybody. That's what gets me by. I told you, that tribe had no medical knowledge; their people died because of things like common cold, for Heaven's sake! When Gus treated them, and taught them basic medicine and personal hygiene (I helped with that! A lot!), they held us above their heads to the last day.
They were so grateful, they wanted to give us the greatest possible gift – eternal good fortune for our unhatched son. It was a long process, but you didn't raise no lazy tailfeathers, Ma. I followed every incantation and every rune to a T."
Donald felt himself be jostled ever so slightly as his grandmother straightened in her armchair. "Incantation? What do you mean, like magic? They used their magic on Gladstone?" her voice sounded a bit worried.
Daphne slipped her hand into her dress. "Look at this."
She pulled out a worn old oak box, and produced a key locket from around her neck, hidden away underneath her collar. She slipped it into the lock, and it clicked open. Tilting the open box towards her mother, Grandma Duck's eyes widened.
"Bless Pa's soul!" she cried. "Are those – are those Gladstone's?!"
"Yessir."
The box was full to the brim with the broken shards of an eggshell, but that was not what surprised the old grandmother. It was that every single shard was either dipped into all the wildest colors of the spectrum, or covered entirely in unintelligible symbols and runes.
Grandma Duck looked up from the shards to the young mother, reproach in her eyes. "You let them paint on your egg?"
"Don't worry, Ma. I was always there. They were very careful, not a dent."
"Still! I though the most reckless thing you ever did was tell Scrooge it was his turn that year to buy the Christmas tree, but this -!"
"- was worth it," said Daphne firmly, waving her hand quickly as if to dismiss a quarrel before it begins. "If you don't take risks, Ma, you'll never know what you're missing out on.
"You can't take risks when it's someone else's life!"
"Listen to me, Ma! We were the first ducks the tribe had ever seen; we couldn't leave.
"My egg interested them so much - they drew portraits and wrote stories even before Gladdy hatched." said the young mother, staring ahead at memories only she could see. "They finished writing the last incantation on his eggshell only three days before he hatched…and up till the day he turns four, I have to make sure I fulfill each and every charm."
"He turns four in – "
"Nineteen days, yep."
"And you have to fulfill what, exactly?"
"Things," said Daphne vaguely. "Can't say what they are exactly, Ma, they'd lose their magical effects. I have to do everything the Elder asked me exactly the way he asked me otherwise I negate the incantation."
Grandma Duck looked worriedly at her youngest grandson, sleeping in his mother's lap, as if expecting him to grow weeds out of his feathers any moment.
"Daphne…you're so reckless."
Daphne only rolled her eyes and smiled bearingly.
"What do you think about all of this, Goostave?" asked Grandma. The goose hardly said a thing throughout the entire evening. But then again, he was never a goose that spoke much. "Were you alright with all this?"
Goostave only adjusted his monocle and leaned over to pour himself another cup of tea. "I'm just grateful we're back to civilization; I don't care to see another wolf or listen to hoodovoodo moaning for the rest of my life. How I miss my very scientific medical books."
"Yeah, I really missed home..and Duckburg," agreed Daphne with a wistful breath.
"Not as much as I miss it," said Goostave, leaning back and drinking up his freshly-poured tea. He'd always been a tea drinker, and after four years – four goddamn years – of living with a tribe of cut-off old wolves deep within the Himalayas, he could do nothing but drink tea and lounge in an armchair for another four years. And gladly.
oOoOoOoOoOo
Grandma Duck found that even she – for all her known stern-ness in raising her own children, could not resist pampering the hell out of her youngest grandson.
Gladstone was a delightful gosling, with a charming innocence to the world, and a face much too appealing for a goose. Her grandson was going to grow up handsomely.
Or, in her daughter's own excited words, Ma, he's gonna grow up into such a heartbreaker! Remember my words!
Family started pouring during the following two weeks to see the newest addition to their tree. Gladstone was showered with love, and toys, and good wishes.
It hardly took any time for Grandma Duck to realize and accept that Gladstone's luck was extraordinary.
Donald grew more and more jealous. Grandma was no fool; she made sure to give her other grandson as much attention and care as her new angel, but odd things kept happening, nevertheless...
Donald would cry that she gave Gladstone two scoops of ice cream when he himself only got one. She could not for the life of her remember doing so.
Donald would rant - always tearfully - that his uncles bought Gladstone better and newer toys. They did not seem to notice. Grandma Duck did not either, at first.
To be fair, toys kids played with nowadays were getting stranger and stranger. They all looked pretty much the same to her. It was, however, Donald's distressed wailing that she did not love him anymore that drove the thought home for the first time.
Gladstone's luck was not extraordinary; it was supernatural.
oOoOoOoOoOo
Accidents and mishaps missed Gladstone just as much as affection and material items found him. The result was a gosling that never looked where he was going.
His luck had not failed him once in fifteen days. Still, Grandma Duck was protective. She would watch the boys play out on the fields, and more than once without thought, cry out in alarm when Gladstone got too close to a cow, or rolled down a hill, or tried to hide in the tractor's treads. Where Donald would scrape a knee, Gladstone would walk away with barely a scratch.
Daphne's loving but otherwise lax attitude with her son did not help matters. They were little things at first, but when she 'forgot' him at the market one day, Grandma Duck had a fit. Hiding behind the kitchen door with his head poking around, Donald watched his grandmother as she launched into a shouting lecture all while throwing on her old shawl over her shoulders running out the door.
"You're not listening to me!" cried his Auntie as she chased after her mother. "He'll come back!"
"I don't want to hear it!" shouted Grandma, mind clouded with anger and worry. She did not even look back at her daughter even as she heard her footsteps close behind. "You irresponsible girl! How could you?!"
"I already said -!"
"You are a mother, now! Forget the magic! Forget the tribe! Forget all this damn hocus pocus! Nothing is worth leaving your child out by himself!"
"I have to!" cried Daphne, angry and near-tears. "I have to do this! I will do whatever it takes so that he never loses his luck!"
"Then you stay here on the blasted porch! I'll go get him!"
"Ma!" Daphne reached and pulled her mother's arm back, hard. Grandma whirled around, furious, looking ready to slap her. The tears trickling from Daphne's face stopped her. "You interfere now, you'll spoil everything! He turns four in just four days and then his luck will be eternal. Please don't ruin it! I want my boy to have the best life he can."
"Yo! Elvira!" came a man's shout from a distance. Grandma Duck whirled around to see farmer Jonas jogging towards her farm. His long legs crossed the fields easily, and in his arms she saw a peacefully-asleep gosling with feathers in a curl.
Daphne stepped up and took her boy from the kind farmer, cooeing at him reassuringly. Gladstone remained asleep, not a care in the world on his perfect, young face. Grandma felt a ridiculous urge to cry, but managed to shove it aside. It was all so much good luck. Jonas left with a wave of his straw hat, his loyal old dog padding after him.
"See, Ma," said Daphne quietly after moments of silence. "This is what I meant; now Gladstone will never get lost."
"Give me my grandson," said Grandma shortly, and took the gosling into her arms as she stepped back inside the house. She squeezed him against her chest. "The sooner this hocus pocus is over, the sooner I can rest in peace."
"There is one last thing I need to do," started Daphne, looking away towards the woods. Beyond the dense trees, lay the city of Duckburg.
"And what might that be..?"
"I gotta pay a visit to Scrooge Moneybags."
"..Ah, he's the only one who hasn't seen Gladstone yet."
"Yep, but that's not all. I'll visit him this Thursday – at his money bin. That's the day Gladdy turns four.
"And if – no, when – I do it, Gladdy will never need to worry about money."
oOoOoOoOoOo
Duckburg, while a pleasant city to live in, was still much too noisy by Grandma Duck's standards. She loved her farm, and would live on it for the rest of her days, thank you very much.
Donald, on the other hand, seemed to regard Duckburg as Heaven. He ran around, pressed his beak against the toy store windows, petted the stray dogs even when Gramma told him no, and even tried to coax Gladstone to race across the street.
The ducklings' constant running around and disappearing acts quickly wore away at what remained of Grandma's peace of mind, and in the end, she firmly held each boy's hand in both her own as they walked up the hill with Daphne towards Scrooge's money bin.
Donald had visited his rich Uncle Scrooge at the bin before. His uncle had a huge vault, filled with enough money to swim in (this was for some reason very important to his uncle), and even though he was allowed to go inside it, he couldn't swim in all the coins like his Uncle did.
Uncle Scrooge was such a cool uncle, though. Too bad Donald hardly ever saw him.
The money bin stood imposingly on its green hill against Duckburg's blue sky. There was not a guard in sight, but that did not really come as a surprise to Grandma Duck - Scrooge might be a tightwad, but he was a smart tightwad. Instead of paying expensive monthly wages, he filled his bin with intricate traps that did not have mouths with which to ask for raises.
Gladstone suddenly removed his hand from his grandmother's grasp, ran eagerly around the side of the colossal bin.
"Wh – Gladstone! Where do you think you're going, young man?" growled Grandma.
"I saw a coin!" came the gosling's excited chirp. He stuck his entire upper body into what looked like a perfectly normal-looking rose bush.
"Gramma! Let go! I wanna find a coin, too!" whined Donald, tugging at her hand, then trying to drag her along with him when she didn't loosen her grip.
"Ta-daa!" exclaimed Gladstone, crawling back out with his shiny prize. "It's a – um, a h-haaaalff –"
"A half-dollar!" said his mother happily when she reached him. "Atta boy, Gladdy!"
"Gramma, come oooon!" said Donald, pulling his grandmother along.
"Let Mama take a look, baby" said Daphne, poking her head into the bush where her son had been. "Hey..I think there's a trapdoor!"
"In the bushes?" asked Grandma in confusion.
"This must be another way inside, one that only Scrooge uses," said Daphne, grinning sneakily at her son, who mimicked her grin with perfection. "The old coot thought of everything. Come on!"
"How rude! Is this how you visit relatives, Daphne? Walk through the front doors like a normal duck!"
"But I wanna go through the trapdoor, too!" said Donald excitedly, stamping his feet on the grass impatiently, still trying to release his grandmother's hold on his hand.
"Absolutely not! We are going through the front door!"
"Noooo!" whined the duckling noisily. "How come Gladstone gets to go in the trapdoor?!"
"Don't say no to your grandmother, young man!"
"Oh come on, Ma! We'll surprise old Moneybags this way. Besides, I told you there was one last thing I needed to do to seal Gladdy's fortune once and for all. Donnie, you wanna go through the trapdoor, don't you?"
"Yeah! Gramma, lemme go!"
"Absolutely not!"
"Why does Gladstone get to go!"
"You are not Gladstone!"
That turned out to be the wrong thing to say. Donald's face crumpled, and his large eyes overflowed with very real tears. Pulling away from his very guilty grandmother, he ran to his Auntie and buried his wet face into her dress.
"No, no, Donnie. Don't cry." cooed Daphne, rubbing his head and looking at her mother reproachfully. Grandma Duck didn't need it to feel anymore guilty. Her grandson thought she loved Gladstone more than him. He thought his cousin's luck would make everybody forget about him. Feeling quite heartbroken, she disentangled her grandson from his Auntie's dress and hugged him fiercely.
And that was how Donald got his way and went down the trapdoor.
oOoOoOoOoOo
The dim passageway seemed to go on and on and on. Grandma was starting to feel afraid; what if this was a trap to lure thieves to a dead end?
A moment away from telling her daughter that perhaps it would be wise they return the way they came, the passageway opened up to a light, fresh wind.
"..Are we outside again?"
Daphne's face was confused for a moment, but then she broke into a wide grin. "Yes! We're on the roof!"
"Good gracious! The roof? Donald, don't go near the edg – Gladstone come here!" cried Grandma. She clamped down on her two eager grandchildren before they could venture too close to the edge. Clouds were slowly forming in the distance, but the weather was still warm and pleasant.
Daphne whistled. "Well, now! This is not something you see everyday! Scrooge, you lucky bastard!"
"Daphne Duck!" hollered Grandma.
"Sorry, sorry! C'mere Gladdy, look! This is where we'll live!"
"On the roof?" cried Gladstone happily, clapping his little hands as his mother carried him up.
"No, you silly goose! This is the city we're gonna live in! Duckburg!"
"Daphne, don't go near the edge!"
Daphne hugged her boy and kissed his temple. "Happy landing, my little Gladstone Gander! And may your luck outlive all of the word's charms!"
And with that, Gladstone was freefalling off the top of Scrooge's money bin.
Gramma screamed. Donald never heard her scream before, and horrified tears sprung into his eyes. He saw her move, as if to jump after Gladstone and instinctively latched onto her leg with a scared quack. She froze at the sound (but Donald could still feel goosebumps up and down her leg) and covered her face with her hands as the sobbing started.
oOoOoOoOoOo
Mrs. Featherby poked her head into Scrooge's office. "Mr. McDuck, the forecast says it's gonna be raining quite a bit this afternoon. Would you like me to get your umbrella just in case?"
Scrooge looked up from his documents to the window. "Rainin'? Aye, fine. Are ye sure those quacks weren't talkin' about St. Canard?"
"..Yes, Mr. McDuck, I'm quite sure," said the lightning-fast secretary, rolling her eyes to the ceiling.
"Get my umbrella then, and call Duckworth to come around. I'm goin' home early today – I've got to be at the Society by six. That Mrs. Swann wouldnae let me hear the end of it if I arrive late."
"Right away, sir."
Locking his drawer shut, Scrooge got up from his armchair, stretched his back noisily and reached for his hat. He moved towards the window, and saw that yes, clouds were coming over Duckburg rather fast.
He extended his arm outside, and felt a couple raindrops on his white feathers. "It really looks like it's gonna be rainin' soo-"
A gosling was suddenly hanging from his arm, squealing in delight.
"Blazing bagpipes! It'll be rainin' wee babes?!"
Pulling his arm and the gosling inside quickly, Gladstone looked up at Scrooge and smiled happily. "Hi!"
"Eh…hi, laddie. Where's your mother?"
"Up! On the roof!"
"On the roof?! How in the world did she-?!"
Mrs. Featherby opened the door again. "Mr. McDuck, Duckworth is on his way. Would you like me to…" she paused.
Scrooge turned around to see Featherby, his accountant, and no less than ten other employees standing at the door, beaks and muzzles open. Their eyes moved from Scrooge to Gladstone and back again. The accountant dropped his clipboard with a loud thunk and did not remember to pick it up.
"Mr. McDuck!" cried Mrs. Featherby joyfully, bringing a hand to her heart. "Is this your grandson? Why, I never knew-!"
"No, no! I have nae time for grandkids!" growled Scrooge, sitting the gosling on the desk. "The lad rained on me from the sky!"
"I heard them say it was gonna rain cats and dogs on the radio today, but this is too much," said the accountant, shaking his head. "Unreliable quacks indeed."
"Aye, that's what I said," Scrooge growled. "Send Hollerhorn up to the roof. See if anybody's up there."
"On the roof, sir?" said Featherby, confused.
"Ye heard me! The lad says his mother is on the roof. Move it."
The door closed once more, and Scrooge turned again to the gosling who'd jumped off his desk excitedly and onto his armchair. "I found a quarter!"
"Did ye, lad?"
"Yeah, look!"
"..That's a dime not a quarter, laddie, but a good find, nonetheless," grinned Scrooge, keeping it for himself. The gosling looked a little put out, but perked at the prospect of food. Sighting Scrooge's half-finished cheese sandwich on the desk, he took it and started munching happily.
oOoOoOoOoOo
"What's your favorite color, ma boy?"
"Yellow!" the gosling proclaimed.
"Aah, I like your taste." said Scrooge with a grin, petting Gladstone's head. The little lad was a charmer.
Hollerhorn opened the office door and stepped aside swiftly. A delighted-looking Daphne strode through, and waved her hand with a jovial "Hiya, Moneybags!"
"I should've known it was you," said Scrooge with a bored expression. "…is that Elvira's handmark on yer face?"
Daphne put a hand to the angry red mark on left side of her beak, looking sheepish but not altogether too embarrassed. "Is it that obvious? Well, can't say I didn't deserve it.."
Grandma Duck walked in after her, face a red streaked mess. She dashed for her grandson silently and picked him up to her chest. Her face looked ready to crumple in tears again. Donald peeked into the office, looking very scared and confused. Upon seeing Gladstone in his grandmother's arms, the tension seemed to leave his small features and he ran up to his uncle instead. "Hiya, Unca Scrooge!"
"Ah, Donald ma boy. So this is yer cousin here?"
"Yeah, Gladstone," said Donald, uttering the name like it was something stupid. "Auntie says he's gonna be the luckiest goose in the world today."
"Luckiest?"
"He won't need work to make money like you do, Unca Scrooge," explained Donald seriously.
"And it's his birthday too!" announced Daphne, doing an odd victory dance around Grandma Duck and her son. Scrooge just stared at her for a moment, shrugged ("Once and airhead, always an airhead," he muttered) then turned back to his nephew.
"That's preposterous. Donald, if yer not smartier than the smarties and tougher than the toughies, you'll never amount to anything like yer uncle Scrooge. Ye can't trust yer life to luck.
"In fact, since it's the lad's birthday today, I have a most wonderful present for the both of ye; I'll teach ye all about Duckburg's economy-"
"No, Unca Scrooge!" cried Donald, pulling his sailor hat down to his beak.