My name is Nightingale.

What such a beautiful name! Is what you are a probably thinking, but I am far from it.

I am a green, fat little donkey living in the suburbs of Toontown. I live with my mother – my dad died when I was little.

I was bullied ever since I entered school. All the dogs and cats and even pigs hit me and pulled my fur because I had such a lovely name and such an ugly body. I hated them. They always tormented me and when I dropped out of school all the pretty toons mugged me in the streets. I had one friend. He helped me through this tough time in life, but he met a gorgeous cat and she wanted him to move in with her in Donald's Dreamland. He left me with a small peck on the cheek. He never stayed in touch. I am alone. No one will ever help me because I am unhelpabul. It's not a real word. I made it up.

I make up lots of stories in my head with all my imaginary friends. We sit on benches and we talk to each other. People think I'm a nutter.

My mother abandoned me a few months ago. She couldn't live with the shame of being the mother of such an ugly little donkey. Even other donkeys bullied me. I feel as if I'm a hate figure.

Even doodles run away from me. If go near one, their owners hiss and chase me away. I can't run fast. I have no talents whatsoever.

I don't like my life. There is no other way to put it.

A couple of days ago, I got a letter from Him.

Dear Nightingale,

I love it here in Dreamland! Please come and visit me! Here's my address...

So I pack my little rucksack and leave to Dreamland. I've never been away from the Central. When I went down Loopy Lane and into Melodyland, I saw a change in toons. They were all talking to each other nicely - deciding which cog building to take over and such. They either ignore me or if I come up to them and ask where Dreamland is, they chuckle and give me a route. All the pink in this place nearly make my eyes sore.

I walk down more streets, until I come to a sign which says 'Donald's Dreamland'. I go to the nearest phonebox and ring up the number He gave me. It rings, and a girl voice replies.

"Hello? Who's this? Oh, Nightingale? Ok, ok, we'll come to pick you up."

She hangs up. I never said a word to her. She must've realised it was me. I wonder how?

I sit on the neon pink kirb. Toons pass me pitying looks. They think I'm homeless. Well, I guess I am. Soon, a neon pink kitty comes up to me. She smiles quaintly and gives me her hand. She doesn't say anything. We walk through very dark misty streets, with lots of cogs walking everywhere. Later, we reach a block of houses away from the lanes. He opens it and smiles.