DISCLAIMER: We are the terrors that fab in the night! We are the lesbian porno not wanted in your fandom. We arrrrrrre...Not pirates. We also don't own Darkwing Duck or its characters. Such a shame too. If you like this nonsense, leave a comment. If you hate it, leave a comment. If you smell like pinsol from bathing in jello, leave many comments.
SnarkGirl: Helloooooo people of earth! So...What the heck is this we're reading Wifey?
Munie: ... Seems to be some emo dribble. Who wrote this stuff anyway?
SnarkGirl: Must have been some lil' snot nosed kids who are PMSing...Oh wait...It's US?
Munie: Snot nose kids that're PMSing? Yeah, that sounds like us.
SnarkGirl: I thought we had more class. Bah. Besides, we all know figments of my imagination don't have times of the month...Except Bushroot. He's just THAT much of a pansy.
Munie: Oooo with talk like that it's no WONDER he makes your other voices sleep on the couch! ... Wait, was there a point to this?
SnarkGirl: Oh, right. The point was something like "Oooo, collabness." and "Ooooo, Twitter references"...Or was it "Hey baby, mind if I handle your snugglepillows"?
Munie: ... I dunno, but can we make it that last one? Let's just let them read the story while we go make it all about that.
SnarkGirl: Wonderful idea, dear. Now can it be my turn to use the paddle? My bottom is still sore from the last time.
Munie: Fiiiine. But you still gotta wear the nurse outfit.
SnarkGirl: Only if you'll be the tentacle monster...Enjoy folks!
0~0~0~0~
It was two in the morning in St. Canard, the moon still hung high in the sky, and though only a sliver on this dark night, the city lights kept the empty streets dimly lit. The lights began to ebb as one got closer to the edge of town, and deeper into the parts of town that were known for being rather dangerous. That is to say, where most of St. Canard's most undesirable residents resided, also home to the infamous 'The Underbelly'. However, last call had ended an hour ago, and yet one long figure was just stumbling home.
These streets were not as brightly lit, mostly because the said lone figure had 'liberated' the streetlights months ago and no one had bothered to replace them yet.
One false step was all it took for the intoxicated rodent to trip over his own oversized boot and almost fall face-first into the concrete sidewalk. He stumbled and caught himself by clutching onto a lamp post just in time. He groaned and pressed his back up to the post, it's cool metal feeling good to his feavered skin and helped settle his stomach a bit. No, nevermind, spoke too soon, as he leaned over and retched and puked into the empty candy wrapper and condom infested gutter.
"Well, this's just... jus' peachy." he slurred to no one in particular. He had, quite obviously, had far too much to drink that night. He hadn't drank like this in a long time, and at the moment, he couldn't quite remember why he had tonight.
Thirty minutes later, Megavolt finally stumbled in through his lighthouse door. Making it up the steps had been a chore and a half, and by the time he reached the top he was crawling on his hands and knees. Once there, he shakingly got to his feet, and instantly cast a venomous glare to the table lamp sitting on his night stand.
"Oh, shutup. It's none of your buisness where I was at two in the morning!" he growled at the silent fixture. Although in his current state, the words came out sounding more like
" Oh shap. Snuna ur bisssniz whuriwus at toinna morin!"
The table lamp wasn't his only 'family member' that had been worried about him and wanted to know just where he had been, however, and soon the tired rat was bombarded with voices from every direction. Voices that only he could hear, ofcorse, voices that weren't really there at all. But to him they were, and made his head pound all the more. Megavolt screamed something incorherent and grasped his head in both hands, in an attempt to both silence the voices and stop the tormenting headache.
All at once, the voices stopped, although the pounding behind his tired eyes did not, and he made his way to his couch, where he collapsed rather ungracefully onto the worn cushions.
Laying on his stomach with his eyes closed, trying to stop the room from spinning, and trying not to barf again, his mind began to wander. It was Quackerjack's fault he was so miserable right now, he reasoned. The damn jester had been gone for three days on some trip to some island in the middle of some damn ocean on some mission. It's not like they hadn't been apart before; hell, these days they rarely saw much of each other at all. They did both have their own lives. But, as much as Megavolt hated to admit it, he was worried. What if something happened out there? He'd never know. And bad memory or not, the brain friend rodent knew that Quackerjack was something he'd never be able to forget.
The way he laughed, the way he literally bounced off the walls (and ceiling), the way he pouted, the way he could come up with the most fun, if not strange ideas, seemingly out of nowhere, the way he, did that thing, with the slinky...
Megavolt was surprised to find that he was sobbing into the couch cushions. What was WRONG with him? Here he was blubbering like a heartsick schoolgirl, just because his... partner in crime was off on some island without him, facing who-knows what dangers... or on some nude beach with hundreds of naked guys...
His plughat began to spark a bit at that, but before his anger could progress much farther, his stomach lurched and he nearly fell off his couch as he made a clumsy sprint to his bathroom.
More retching into the filthy porcelain toilet, but the only thing to come up was beer and stomach acid, burning his throught and making him gag and retch again. Staring blankly into the cloudy water, he numbly recalled the mission that Negaduck had sent HIM on, with the Liquidator, and he shivered a little. While he didn't actually hate the living puddle, they didn't exactly get along in terms of being around each other, for obvious reasons. The heist had ended in victory, for the most part, most likely due to them being out of town and away from Dorkwing Dunce, but it ofcorse hadn't ended without the two of them getting too close and shorting him out. That had only taken a day... it had been three days and Quacky was still gone.
"I wonder if he left any updates on his Twitter..." Megs mused out loud, suddenly shooting up and racing to his laptop. He gave Morty, one of his toasters, a sideglare as he switched on his computer.
"I am NOT obsessing." he hissed at it. The toaster just kept on being a toaster, the light of the computer screen now glowing off of it's smooth metal surface.
The computer couldn't have loaded fast enough for the harried rodent. He had long ago made Twitter his home page, despite the voice in the back of him mind telling him how childish that was. But today, he was glad for it, for at once he saw that his jester had indeed been busy posting updates.
Megavolt scrolled through the postings, and found most of it be Quackerjack and Bushroot arguing about butterflies and vines and syrup, the same strange stuff he never quite understood. Then talk of a nude beach... Oooo! He KNEW it! Both of the rodent's hands, along with his hat began to spark, casting an eerie blue glow around his being to mix with the soft glow of the computer screen, and he had to let go of his laptop to avoid catching it on fire again.
Taking a deep breath, he continued to read, almost fearing to. He was dreading reading about his Quacky cavorting with other naked guys... he wasn't sure he could take it tonight. But curiosity, along with this being as close to him as he could be right now, kept him reading.
Megavolt began to tear up and he smiled, even gave a weak chuckle as he read the next three tweets.
"QuackerJackToys: Well THAT has been interesting. Who knew so many would wanna go see each other nude? Hehe. Except...everyone was here but the ONE person I
QuackerJackToys: wanted to see naked...Gah! Ol' Melon head is making me get off. Saying we gotta finally go and get to work. Easy for HIM to say, his man
QuackerJackToys: is here. HMPH! "
Megs spent the next five minutes reading Quacky's posts. As he came to the last one, I felt himself begin to tear up.
"QuackerJackToys: Stupid Sparky...He needs to stop making me miss him. It's just not fair! "
Shutting down his computer, he hugged it to his chest and tried his best to keep the tears away. Super villains don't cry!
"DARN YOU QUACKY!" he yelled to the otherwise empty lighthouse. "Why must you continue to TORTURE me, even when you're not here..." he finished in more of a whiny whimper. Numbly changing into his robe, the frazzled rat collapsed again onto his couch, this time too exhausted to cry, too annoyed at his overly dramatic display to care.
Even as he clutched the tattered teddybear that bore the Quackerjack Toys logo on the tag, and had long had it's razor sharp claws removed, he still scolded himself for letting himself get this way. It was the booze, he was sure.
Just as he was finally drifting off to sleep, Quacky's last tweet still fresh in his mind, he sat bolt upright on the small couch.
"HEY! DON'T CALL ME-" ... he was greeted with silence and an empty lighthouse.
"... sparky..."
0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0
It was just not fair!
All right, all right...the demented toymaker could admit that he was having fun on his vacation. ( No matter how many times Bushroot tried to convince him otherwise, QuackerJack just could not- nor would not- see it as work.) Not only did he and the lyceum nycanthropus got to do dress up, but also spent a whole day at a nude beach. It was most certainly a grand time trying to get ol' Bushbrain to stop being a stick in the mud. (And liking wet soil was not a good enough excuse to get him out of it either.)
But...No matter how much fun it was...His smile just did not feel the same. Just not as wide or as jovial as it usually was.
He felt like a piece of him was missing.
Missing? What could possibly be missing? The mallard had his yo-yos. The clown had his teddy. Heck, he had eight boxes of jello (in eight different crazy flavors) on him! What else could he possibly want, besides being able to get Bushy's syrup from the tap?
Well...There was HIM.
Who? Quacky had NO idea what the voices in his head could be talking about.
'Don't play dumb, chum.'
The jester sighed, knowing it was futile. Yes, he was missing a very special individual. Someone who would've been LOTS more fun to play with. Someone who was just as mad, and not so much of a fuddy-duddy.
Why wasn't Megsy there?
QuackerJack glared up at the hotel room's cieling. He wiggled as he tried to find a more comfortable position on the little couch. The mutant plant-duck had kicked him out of the bed...AGAIN! OY! Make one Brokeback mountain joke...
Sparky would've found it funny...
The mallard pulled on his hat in grief and frustration. WHY? Why was this bothering him so much? He had been away before. It wasn't as if they spent every single moment together anyway. That did have seperate lives after all.
"Ooooo, get out of my head! This is crazy. And *I* know crazy! Heh."
He quickly shut his bill as he heard Bushroot mumbling in his sleep about crazy ducks and crusty speedos. Though that did get a good laugh, it still didn't lift his depression. Depression? Who ever heard of a sad clown? QuackerJack didn't get sad. Only BORING people did.
Said the moping jester.
He sighed as he got up, going over to the hotel's provided computer. Although he knew there wouldn't be any updates, he had to check. He had to see what the stupid rat was up to. The duck logged into twitter.
As expected, he saw nothing. "Meeeeegsy. You ALWAYS forget to post. ALWAYS!" He pouted, hugging his knees. The colorful clown sighed once more before typing...
"QuackerJackToys-Stupid Sparky...He needs to stop making me miss him. It's just not fair!"
And with that he logged off the computer, turning back to the couch. Quacky's full grin returned once he recalled something. And rushing to his suitcase, he rummaged through them. Finally he found his prize...
Megavolt's sock.
Quacky's FAVORITE Megsy's sock.
He clutched it to his chest while he snuggled the darn thing. He then went back to that stupid stinking couch. At least...At least now he'd be able to sleep. Even if the thing was full of stains...It was the closest to the real deal he had.