Ding-dong!
"Package for Mr. Drake Mallard. Sign here."
A truly Negaduck-like expression spread across Drake's face as he beheld a large, wooden crate, its bulk consuming more than its fair share of the living room. Drake produced a large crowbar out of nowhere; his new best friend. With reflexes borne of his quack fu training, Drake attacked the crate with abandon. Wood flew in nearly every direction. When the dust cleared, nothing stood between Drake and his shiny, new, electric idol.
Launchpad sauntered by the doorway, drinking milk from the carton, and stopped in his tracks.
"Whoa, that's a-"
"Yes LP." Said Drake dreamily. "The Sonny 5001. Unreleased in America. 2.5 million channels, mind-blowing 10.0 digital surround sound." Dwarfed, Drake scaled the TV. "It's got 1.2 billion mega-pixels. It slices, dices, even makes jullian fries, and roasts a turkey in less than an hour."
"It's.it's beautiful." Said Launchpad, getting sentimental.
"Yeah.and the only thing we've left to do," Drake announced, "Is set it up!"
Launchpad looked slightly uncomfortable. He figured his best chance was to bow out gracefully.
"We? Well, I'd like to, y'know.but maybe you should call someone from the TV place to hook it up. You know how tense you get around gadgets."
"Tense!! Who's tense?!" said Drake, shaking.
"Hey!" Said Launchpad, nervously. "I think I hear Avian calling! Bye."
Launchpad rarely moved so fast.
"I can't believe it!" said Drake dramatically. "Abandoned! In my hour of need by my own partner! Okay, if that's how it's gonna be."
Rummaging around in the general debris of his living room, Drake found the operating manual. He struggled to lift the phonebook-sized "instruction booklet" onto the couch, then flipped through it casually.
"Boy, no wonder people get fed up with manuals!! You gotta be trilingual just to read it!"
Drake snapped the book shut, jumped up and clapped his hands together.
"OK. Enough talk. Let's get dangerous."
5 Hours Later.
The Mallard living room was a mass of cables, the Sonny 5000's tentacles. Drake crouched on top of it, covered in cables, battle scarred, clutching the remote.
"There." He said in a high, shaky voice. "It oughtta work now." Drake pushed a button on the remote, got a jolt of electricity, and fell from the TV with a yell.
Morgana, Launchpad, and Avian rushed in. Drake hung upside down, 'bungeed" by his cables, charred, but still clutching the remote. He still held an odd, singsong sort of voice.
"I think I've finally got it LP."
"Dark, darling." Said Morgana, delicately. "Perhaps you should call it a night, and.continue working on this tomorrow."
"Oh no no no no no no no, Morgue honey. Pelican's Island is on in 15 minutes, and we've gotta watch that. Look."
Everyone winced when Drake pressed the button on his remote.
The television glowed to life.
"I did it! Hahahahahaha! It's alive! ALIVE!!"
Ding-dong!
"Package for Mr. Mallard."
"Mr. Mallard" scrawled his name upside down.
"What's this?" Said Avian opening the package. "Hey! It's Wiffleboy Fantasy IX!"
"Oof!" Drake fell to the ground and held the game above his head. "Behold! The only thing greater than yourself! Let's play."
"Drake, you really oughtta get some sleep first." Said Launchpad.
"Sleep? Sleep is for the weak."
Drake played Whiffleboy Fantasy IX until his fingers ached, basking in the fluorescent glow of the Sonny 5000. He wasn't sure what time it was (or even what day it was) when Gosalyn came home.
"Dad. I'm home."
Drake dropped his controller. Gosalyn sat next to her father, taking up the extra controller.
Drake blinked. "Is this real, or am I just delirious from hours of brain drain?"
"Both." Said Gosalyn. "I'll prove it." Gosalyn began racking up points in the game.
"Hey hey hey hey! You can't do that!" Exclaimed Drake with a grin.
Morgana, Launchpad, and Avian came in when they heard the laughter. It was the next morning.
Launchpad stared, incredulously at the scene, and smiled. "I don't think anyone'll ever understand those two."
The end.
"Package for Mr. Drake Mallard. Sign here."
A truly Negaduck-like expression spread across Drake's face as he beheld a large, wooden crate, its bulk consuming more than its fair share of the living room. Drake produced a large crowbar out of nowhere; his new best friend. With reflexes borne of his quack fu training, Drake attacked the crate with abandon. Wood flew in nearly every direction. When the dust cleared, nothing stood between Drake and his shiny, new, electric idol.
Launchpad sauntered by the doorway, drinking milk from the carton, and stopped in his tracks.
"Whoa, that's a-"
"Yes LP." Said Drake dreamily. "The Sonny 5001. Unreleased in America. 2.5 million channels, mind-blowing 10.0 digital surround sound." Dwarfed, Drake scaled the TV. "It's got 1.2 billion mega-pixels. It slices, dices, even makes jullian fries, and roasts a turkey in less than an hour."
"It's.it's beautiful." Said Launchpad, getting sentimental.
"Yeah.and the only thing we've left to do," Drake announced, "Is set it up!"
Launchpad looked slightly uncomfortable. He figured his best chance was to bow out gracefully.
"We? Well, I'd like to, y'know.but maybe you should call someone from the TV place to hook it up. You know how tense you get around gadgets."
"Tense!! Who's tense?!" said Drake, shaking.
"Hey!" Said Launchpad, nervously. "I think I hear Avian calling! Bye."
Launchpad rarely moved so fast.
"I can't believe it!" said Drake dramatically. "Abandoned! In my hour of need by my own partner! Okay, if that's how it's gonna be."
Rummaging around in the general debris of his living room, Drake found the operating manual. He struggled to lift the phonebook-sized "instruction booklet" onto the couch, then flipped through it casually.
"Boy, no wonder people get fed up with manuals!! You gotta be trilingual just to read it!"
Drake snapped the book shut, jumped up and clapped his hands together.
"OK. Enough talk. Let's get dangerous."
5 Hours Later.
The Mallard living room was a mass of cables, the Sonny 5000's tentacles. Drake crouched on top of it, covered in cables, battle scarred, clutching the remote.
"There." He said in a high, shaky voice. "It oughtta work now." Drake pushed a button on the remote, got a jolt of electricity, and fell from the TV with a yell.
Morgana, Launchpad, and Avian rushed in. Drake hung upside down, 'bungeed" by his cables, charred, but still clutching the remote. He still held an odd, singsong sort of voice.
"I think I've finally got it LP."
"Dark, darling." Said Morgana, delicately. "Perhaps you should call it a night, and.continue working on this tomorrow."
"Oh no no no no no no no, Morgue honey. Pelican's Island is on in 15 minutes, and we've gotta watch that. Look."
Everyone winced when Drake pressed the button on his remote.
The television glowed to life.
"I did it! Hahahahahaha! It's alive! ALIVE!!"
Ding-dong!
"Package for Mr. Mallard."
"Mr. Mallard" scrawled his name upside down.
"What's this?" Said Avian opening the package. "Hey! It's Wiffleboy Fantasy IX!"
"Oof!" Drake fell to the ground and held the game above his head. "Behold! The only thing greater than yourself! Let's play."
"Drake, you really oughtta get some sleep first." Said Launchpad.
"Sleep? Sleep is for the weak."
Drake played Whiffleboy Fantasy IX until his fingers ached, basking in the fluorescent glow of the Sonny 5000. He wasn't sure what time it was (or even what day it was) when Gosalyn came home.
"Dad. I'm home."
Drake dropped his controller. Gosalyn sat next to her father, taking up the extra controller.
Drake blinked. "Is this real, or am I just delirious from hours of brain drain?"
"Both." Said Gosalyn. "I'll prove it." Gosalyn began racking up points in the game.
"Hey hey hey hey! You can't do that!" Exclaimed Drake with a grin.
Morgana, Launchpad, and Avian came in when they heard the laughter. It was the next morning.
Launchpad stared, incredulously at the scene, and smiled. "I don't think anyone'll ever understand those two."
The end.