AUTHOR'S NOTE: Have a little moment at everyone's favorite fast-food empire, McDonald's! I mean, Hamburger Hippo. BTW, how does Launchpad work off all those burgers? Also press F to donate a blanky for poor, sleepy Darkwing.
AUDIO VERSION: (aj-the-bluejay dot tumblr dot com slash post slash 176395863027 slash the-first-audiobook-version-of-an-installment-of)
The moon casts a soothing glow across the cityscape. It draws the humble citizen to a state of calm and peace like nothing else can. It calls out to you and says in its trance, "Come to bed. Tomorrow is another day."
So why on earth is this humble hero hanging out at a Hamburger Hippo at this hour?
These thoughts bounced wearily in Darkwing Duck's head as he slumped into a stool at the counter of Launchpad McQuack's favorite fast-food joint. The night was waning fast and a tough patrol had left Darkwing running on fumes, but Launchpad had begged him for a midnight snack to appease his growling stomach. And when Launchpad gave you the puppy dog eyes, you listened.
The lanky fry cook looked up from his phone to see Launchpad stepping up to his register. He brushed his shaggy hair back under his cap and stretched his neck as he prepared to take the pilot's order. Darkwing rested his beak on his hand and sighed. You're not the only one here against your will, tonight… he thought.
"Welcome to Hamburger Hippo, home of the classic Hippo Burger. How may I help you?" the cook droned.
"I'll have two Cheese Food Product burgers with fries, one Hippo Shake, and an apple-flavored Pie Substitute," Launchpad said with much more enthusiasm than this worker could ever muster. Launchpad then turned to the purple-clad protector of the public. "How about you, DW?"
"My blanky, Launchpad," Darkwing grumbled, and fell against the counter with a resounding thud.
"Uhhhh, how about a small Coo-Coo Cola for my buddy?" Launchpad said around an awkward chuckle.
"That'll be $18.64," the employee sighed, and Launchpad pulled a credit card out of his pocket. After the transaction was complete, the worker slunk to the griddle to carry out his first order in 2 and a half hours while Launchpad took a seat next to Darkwing.
"I don't know what you see in this place, LP," Darkwing began as he picked his head up, "there are a thousand better burgers in St. Canard alone."
"Mom and Pop brought us here a lot. They'd always celebrate end of tour at Hamburger Hippo."
"Oh yes, your family are the Flying McQuacks, correct?" Darkwing said.
"Righty-o! They always say the Flying McQuacks bring the audience to their feet!" Launchpad said with pride.
Darkwing plopped his beak back on the counter. "Probably so they can jump out of the way," he mumbled to himself. If LP's flying skills were anything like his family's, it was a wonder they still did sold-out shows across the country.
A small cup was slid down the counter and tapped Darkwing's beak. His cat-like reflexes took over him and he jumped suddenly, flying off the stool and right to the pavement below. This was bound to be the highlight of the cook's evening if his hearty laughter was any indication. Darkwing bounced up, red in the face. Launchpad could barely hold back a grin of his own as he held the glorious hot mess that was his "midnight snack". Darkwing quickly grabbed Launchpad's scarf and dragged him to the Ratcatcher. The sooner he was home and away from this humiliation, the better.
