Hey! I'm back. Just three things, firstly thank you to Kali Ann and Average Everyday Sane Psycho for reviewing the last chapter. It means a lot to have your continued support, and that goes for everyone still reading this.

Secondly - This is my longest chapter yet! Over 2,000 words!

Thirdly - I'm not sure how much longer this diary will go on for. I've got to wrap it up at some point - As Della pointed out there's only so many pages left - but I'm not sure what note to leave it on. I'll work it out though. I guess what I'm trying to say is this is chapter 49 and we'll definitely make 50, but I'm not sure we'll get up to 60 chapters.

I hope you guys enjoy this anyway and it takes your mind of of real life for a while. I hope Horace and Clarabelle aren't completely OOC. Though to be fair they're characters are quite hard to pin down. I've based Clarabelle on her House Of Mouse portrayal. With Horace I've kind gone the meta route [hopefully you'll be able to see what I mean]. I have looked them both up on TV Tropes and watched some of their appearances in other shows in order to help me, but if any of you have any suggestions as to how I can improve them I'd welcome it.

Warning: Swearing.

27/03/2020

The kids aren't speaking to me now because I've committed the HEINOUS crime of TRYING TO PROTECT THEM. Because it dawned on me about two nights ago that this little escapade [I think that's French?] that we were trying to do was actually very dangerous. This women's a professional thief and we were essentially trying to trick her, catch her and send her to jail for at least five years of her life - who knows what she'll do to try and get out of it?

I'll be honest, I initially thought the kids would be fine - they've done a lot and survived it, after all - but Donald shouted at me about responsibility and not letting the kids take unnecessary risks [This coming from the guy who let them go to Atlantis. And into a casino. Just remember that, for future references.] So I decided he actually had a good point and agreed they shouldn't come.

Then I had to tell the boys. They were outraged. "WHY NOT!?" Dewey said, in a high-pitched whine. "We've been on every other adventure!"

"And we haven't seen Horace or Clarabelle in a few years." Huey added.

"Thankfully." Louie said, snarkily, flicking through his phone. [Again!]

I looked at him. "What do you mean 'thankfully'?" I asked. "Horace and Clarabelle are dead nice!"

All three looked at me sceptically. "Well, Clarabelle is." I admitted.

"Clarabelle is annoying." Louie said, flatly. "She's O.O.T. And her moo is-" He made a gesture that indicated 'not good.'

I glared at him. "She can't help her moo." I said, sternly. "Anymore than you can help having webbed feet."

Louie responded to my attempts to install some moral decency in him by rolling his eyes. I went mental. I'm sick of it! Just the ATTITUDE all the time! He's either plugged into his phone 24/7 or has a snarky comment! And he's not even 13! I'm got to 'nip this in the bud', as Beakley would say, before it becomes a 'thing.'

He was fairly surprised that I just 'blew up' and said he didn't even do anything, Mom! "I don't care!" I snapped. "You're staying here!"

So yeah. Left on a slllliiiiiggggghhhhhtttttlllllyyyyy sour note, but they're with Beakley so they'll be fine. Then we had to get there. Horace and Clarabelle live on the outskirts of Mouseville, which is about 45 minutes away. But we left an hour, just in case.

"This is awesome!" I said, as we set off. "Another adventure! Whoo! Aren't we lucky?"

"Lucky." Donald echoed, in a manner that suggested he thought the opposite. Then - just to confirm it - he added. "Who wouldn't want to continuously risk life and limb?"

I rolled my eyes. "Oh, shuddup. You know you love it really."

He huffed and kept his eyes glued to the road. I sighed and looked out the window. After about twenty minutes of this thrilling ride his phone went. "Can you get that for me, Dells?" He asked.

So I grabbed his phone and said. "It's from Daisy. She said 'That's great! See you later.' And a smiley face."

"Cool." Donald said. "Tell her we'll be there in about half an hour."

So I messaged her then put the phone down. Then I realised what I'd just done. "DAISY!?" I shrieked, so loud Don nearly swerved.

"For fucks sake, Della!" Don snapped, as the guy behind us honked aggressively. "Are you trying to get us killed!?"

"What the hell are you doing texting Daisy?" I asked, ignoring him completely. "When did you get her number anyway?"

"When we met her that time in the mall." Donald told me. "I gave her my number and left it open to her whether she'd call me or not." He cleared his throat and added, somewhat unnecessarily. "She did."

By now I was connecting the dots. "And she's also coming on this little adventure of ours?" I checked.

Donald nodded. "Clarabelle invited her."

So great. Daisy's coming. On one hand, I should be happy, but I can't help being a little suspicious. So, what? Her and Donald don't speak for ages and now suddenly they're all buddy-buddy? I'm not suuuuuuuuurrrrrrrrrrreeeeeeeeeeeee.

Obviously I wasn't going to tell my twin that, seeing as he looked so happy, so I buttoned my beak and let him carry on telling me about how great Daisy is and how intelligent she is and how he can't believe she's back in his life and how she practically creates gold wherever she steps she's THAT BLOODY PERFECT-

Okay, maybe I'm exaggerating a little. But that is pretty much what he said and by the time we finally made it to Horace and Clarabelle's I was about ready to punch him in the beak if he said ONE more thing about Miss Daisy Perfect Duck-

"Oh, look she's here already." Donald said, as we drove up H+C's VERY LONG drive. "Isn't her car nice?"

"Braw*." I said, without looking at it.

Donald gave me a weird look. "Are you okay, Dells? You've been very quiet."

COS YOU'VE NOT LET ME GET A WORD IN EDGEWISE, YOU IDIOT!

...Is what I wanted to say. What I actually said was. "I'm fine. C'mon let's go." And flounced out the car before he could even get his seatbelt off.

It took an age for someone to answer the doorbell - probably cos the house is so big - but eventually Clarabelle herself answered the door with a big beam. "Why, Della!" She said. "How nice to see you! But where's Donald?"

I grinned and jerked my thumb in the direction of the car. "Still wrestling with the seatbelt." I said. "The seatbelts winning."

"Oh, I seeeeeeeeeee." Clarabelle said, knowledgably. "Well, you better come in. We're all in the lounge."

As I went in, she stuck her nose out the door and asked, hesitantly. "Eh, Della? How much looooonger do you think Donald's going to be?"

I waved a hand. "Oh, he'll be fine. Where's the lounge?"

"On the left." Clarabelle answered, vaguely. "I'll just wait here until he frees himself."

"You may be a while." I muttered before heading in.

Everyone was there. Minnie instantly tried to choke me with a hug. Her perfume stank as well. Mickey gave me a hug as well. Daisy grinned and waved at me, but didn't actually hug me, which was fine with me. Horace stood up grandly and shook my hand like he was a foreign prince or something, before laughing and giving me a bone-crushing hug.

It was at this moment Donald stumbled into the living room - still squawking about that bloody seatbelt - and the whole hugging process was repeated.

"I'm so glad you two made it up here." Clarabelle said, floating into the room. "We were awfully worried, weren't we, Horace?"

"Were we?" Horace said, looking confused. One quick glare from Clarabelle and he quickly added. "Oh yes. Very worried." Clarabelle beamed and started talking at ten miles an hour again. Behind her Horace exchanged a look with Mickey who chuckled quietly. "But where are my manners?" Clarabelle said, suddenly. "I must get you a drink. What do you want?"

I didn't want anything, actually, but Clarabelle is a force of nature and when she decides you need something you get it whether you want it or not. So a cup of horrible lukewarm tea was pressed into my hand and it was then she asked about my trip to space.

"It was more of an expedition." I corrected.

"But was it fun?" Clarabelle asked, brightly.

It was clear from that question that Clarabelle doesn't have faintest idea what a trip into space actually means and annoyingly she just kept nodding while I was trying to explain it. I ended up talking about it for ages, actually. I skipped some bits, obviously, like my going slightly mad and the whole 'nearly the end of the world' thing, cos I thought that was a bit heavy, but I told them about trying to teach Penumbra slang, and how to high-five and attempting to cook in space - which was basically impossible.

"And that's where you got your leg?" Clarabelle asked, like I'd just gone out and purchased it instead of, you know, been forced to hack it off.

A silence. The air was so thick you could have cut it with a knife. But I've always discovered the best way to deal with this was humour and made some sort of joke that diffused the tension.

The subject was hastily changed after that and I zoned out for a bit. I returned to reality when Horace asked. "Do you like them, Della?"

"Huh?" I said, groggily.

Behind Horace, Don face-palmed. Mickey, Minnie and Clarabelle smiled and giggled quietly, but thankfully Horace either didn't notice - or more likely chose to ignore it - and said. "My awards. You've been looking at them for a good few minutes." He added, pointedly.

Not wanting to admit I'd zoned out for ages, I agreed to have a look. Horace has an ENTIRE glass cabinet of Awards and Trophy's - which LOOKS and SOUNDS impressive - but then you get up close and read the inscriptions and realise that none of them are from past 2010. The majority of them were for some show called 'Maximum Horsepower*' that - I later discovered (via Google) - ran from 1999 - 2004 and had 5 series. The last award for that show was given in early 2007.

"Very nice." I said, somewhat lamely, after realising I'd been staring at them for slightly to long. "They're very shiny."

Donald looked like he was seriously considering strangling me and even Clarabelle looked slightly suspicious, but thankfully Horace took my words at face value and puffed his chest out proudly. "I polish them every week." He said, smiling. "But anyway." He added, turning back to the rest of the gang. "You don't want to hear about my achievements. You all must be hungry. You'll be glad to know Clarabelle's made dinner."

"Yeeeeesssssss." Clarabelle said, gleefully. "It's nearly ready. Shall we all sit up to the table?"

Clarabelle's clearly missed her calling as a kindergarten teacher. I half-expected her to tell us to wash our hands and not chew with our beaks open.

By this point the novelty of seeing everyone had worn off and I was bursting with curiosity about WHAT exactly we were going to do. I was going to ask, but Donald had one of those weird moments where he read my mind and kicked me under the table.

"Are you alright, Della?" Daisy asked, seeing me screw my face up in agony.

"Fine." I said, trying to sound sincere.

"So, Mickey, how was filming?" Donald asked, loudly.

Mickey paused halfway through lifting a cheeseball to his mouth and gave Horace a sidewards look. "Fine..." He said, slowly.

Horace gave a lop-sided grin. "C'mon, Mickey it must have been better than fine. You were in Australia, for goodness sake. Land of venomous creatures. There must be one good story, at least?"

Mickey gave a bright grin and, waving his fork around, said, slowly. "Well...now you mention it..." And the entire dinner was filled was anecdotes about Mickey's latest filming experience. It sounds really cool actually. He drove down sand dunes and visited Sydney Opera House. I think Minnie liked that as well, given the way her face went all 'romantic' at the mention of it.

Then, after dinner, Horace stood up and announced he wanted to take us on a tour of his art collection.

Even I could see this was a guise so he could tell us about the plans for the heist, so - despite having NO knowledge of art whatsoever - I quickly agreed.

Horace's art collection is upstairs in what is basically a museum otherwise known as the attic, which is the length and width of the house and has glass ceilings and a window at either end. The various pictures and statues are on stands and are very clearly looked after and polished regularly.

"This is the portrait that our mysterious thief wants to get her hands on." Horace said, walking over to a small picture. "It's one of a collection by [insert complicated Italian name of some dead guy here] and is worth about $300,000."

"$300,000 for that!?" Daisy said, in amazement. "I'm in the wrong job!" She said, jokingly, to Minnie.

"How much is the entire collection worth?" Mickey asked.

Horace considered, then shrugged. "It's hard to say. It depends on the condition of the portraits, but well more than a million dollars."

"But you'd never be able to sell them." Minnie pointed out. "They'd be to well-known!"

"Especially with all the publicity." Daisy added.

Horace shrugged. "Who knows what she's trying to do? The point is, this is the last one. Which is where you guys come in."

At last.

Horace explained that our role was [annoyingly] not as action-packed as I was hoping. We were simply going to go with him and Clarabelle to the theatre while Cabrera and Co watched the house. When the thief moved in they were going to arrest her.

"Is that it?" Donald asked, taking the words out of my beak. "Seriously? Just a trip to the theatre? Surely, you didn't need us all for that! Just Mickey and Minnie would have done, wouldn't they?"

Horace nodded, paused and looked at Mickey. It was clear that he hadn't understood a word my twin had said - which was probably a good thing, actually.

"He's happy to help." Mickey said, brightly.

Donald huffed and folded his arms.

"Great!" Horace said, brightly. "Well, we'd better all head to bed. We have a busy night tomorrow."

I'm uggit*. Like, proper uggit. What was the POINT of coming all the way down here for a trip to the theatre? We don't even get to chase anyone! Ugh! Can't believe it.

But I suppose I better try and get some sleep. It is nearly ten o clock after all.

Night diary. See you tomorrow.

*Braw means 'excellent or pleasant' in Scottish. Della means the 1st one.

*Uggit means annoyed.

*Maximum Horsepower was a proposed TV show that was going to star Horace, but never made it past development, I believe. I personally think it would have been quite cool, but apparently Disney disagree. Seeing as it never aired it's a mine of potential ideas.