Chapter 5

"Thank you for inviting me over for dinner," Michael offered as he sat down beside Oswald at the long table's end.

"It was the least we could do after dragging you all around town for no reason," Ortensia said, throwing Oswald a pointed look.

"I'm sorry for being hopeful," Oswald said before putting the forkful of salad to his mouth.

"No, I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that," Ortensia tried, letting out a sigh.

"Mr. Michael, after dinner can you stay for a bit?" Oswald Junior 4 asked from her seat beside the mouse.

"As long as your parents say it's alright," Michael said, giving a look at the couple.

"4," Oswald said, eyeing his daughter.

"No tricks, honest!" 4 exclaimed, her eyes wide in defense. "But so far all of Uncle Mickey's family's been fun. We wanna get to know Mr. Michael."

"How even are you related!?" 207 called out from his seat.

Oswald threw a look at Ortensia before looking down the table at the boy. "I accidently pulled him through time. He's Mickey's grandfather."

Sounds of silver ware dropped as the dining room grew deathly quiet.

"Well, this is creepy," Michael commented in a whisper.

"You really think that was the best way to tell them?" Ortensia hissed.

"They were gonna find out eventually," Oswald hissed back.

"Wouldn't that mean you're our great-grandfather?!" a voice called out to break the silence.

"Is your wife dead too!?"

"You missed a lot of Christmases and birthdays."

"Do we still have to call you Mr. Michael or do we get to call you something else?"

"Are you sure you wanna stay after dinner?" Ortensia asked.

Michael looked down the table as the children started talking excitedly with each other again. A smile pulled at his features as he said, "Yes. I'd like to get to know my great-grandchildren." He turned to the couple and said, "Kinda sad to know I'm not around anymore." His eyes flashed wide as he quickly added, "Or that my son's not around anymore." He looked down at his dinner and asked, "Did you ever get to meet him?"

"No, I'm afraid not," Oswald admitted. "It's still weird to think that some toons get to have normal lives."

"What do you mean?" Michael asked, scooping up his chicken.

"We lived in Wasteland for a long while," Ortensia explained. "It's a world Walt created for his cartoons that had lost the love of humans. There were a lot of drawing board scraps there too."

"So to think there's those allowed to live out there life is a strange concept," Oswald added.

"Don't you know anything's possible?" Michael asked with a sly smile. "How else would I be here right now?"

"Crack-pot scientist?" Oswald suggested.

"Hurry up, Grandpa!" 294 called out as she rushed to the kitchen with her dirty dishes. "We wanna hear stories from your time!"

More bunny children rushed to their feet, holding their plates.

"Hey! What have we told you about rushing through dinner!?" Oswald exclaimed, turning to watch the kids going into the kitchen.

"But we wanna learn about history from someone who lived it!" 55 exclaimed as he passed them.

"This is your last chance to get out of this," Ortensia offered the mouse.

Shoving his forkful into his mouth, his said around it, "I think I'll enjoy this."

Ortensia gave him a smile before noticing one of the bunny children already leaving the kitchen. "11?" The blue bunny turned at her name as Ortensia continued, "Could you get the living room set up?"

"Yes, ma'am," 11 offered before rushing the rest of the way out of the room.

"342," Ortensia called, stopping the boy on his way to the kitchen. "I made some jell-o for tonight. Could you cut it up and bring it out? Once 240's done, you could see if he'll help you."

"Is there whipped cream?" 342 asked.

"Yeah, but don't put it on it. Remember, some people don't like it," Ortensia said.

"Yes, ma'am," 342 said, rushing towards the kitchen.

"You run a well-oiled machine around here," Michael complimented.

"Not always," Ortensia said with a laugh. "Do you have just the one son?"

"And two daughters," Michael admitted. "And they've caused enough trouble in their lives."

"Imagine that with this lot," Oswald said, throwing his thumb at those still at the table.

Michael let out a laugh as the three went back to eating their dinner, listening to pieces of conversations.

"I don't mean to overstep, but something one of your kids said is making me curious," Michael said, cutting up the last of his chicken. He sat the knife down and asked, "What did they mean asking if my wife was dead too?"

"Ortensia's mom died years ago," Oswald explained simply, throwing a look at the woman. He looked at Michael and added, "We still don't know what happened."

"Oh, I'm sorry," Michael offered, looking at the cat.

"No, don't be," Ortensia said, shaking her head. She forced a smile as she added, "I guess the kids were hoping for a grandma."

"Kinda sorry Clementine didn't come with me," Michael said with a laugh. His laugh fell as his brows furled. "Actually, could she be in danger? She is an adventurous mouse."

"Just depends on the collector's tastes, I guess," Oswald said with a shrug.

"I'm the slow one, and you three are still eating?" 401 said as she walked past with her dirty dishes.

The three adults looked down the table, surprised to see it cleared of children. "401, could you clean the table?" Ortensia asked.

"All by myself?" 401 exclaimed.

"Get 26 to help you, I haven't seen him leave the kitchen yet," Ortensia said.

"But I don't wanna be late," 401 whined.

"Well than get started and stop whining," Ortensia chastised.

"Yes, ma'am," 401 said, continuing her path to the kitchen.

"Why are all the kids numbered?" Michael asked.

"I'm not good with names," Oswald admitted.

"Really we were going to name them Oswald Junior and Sadie Junior, that being my birth name," Ortensia offered. "But that was also when we only expected a couple of kids."

"And they all take after their father?" Michael asked, looking at Oswald.

"Only in appearance," Oswald offered with a wince.

"It's so cute when they're trying to pounce on their father," Ortensia said with a big smile.

"The luck that comes with rabbits mix with the curiosity of cats," Michael said with a laugh. "Couldn't think of a better pair."

Ortensia turned at movement coming out of the kitchen to see two bunnies walking out with small towels in hand. She let out a sigh and said, "26, you were eating the whipped cream, weren't you?"

"What? Maw, I'm not always getting into trouble, am I?" 26 asked, splitting from his sister to go towards Oswald's side of the table.

"You've got cream on your cheek," Ortensia said, giving her own cheek a poke.

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, scowling at the residue he found.

"Hope you got enough, because you're not gonna get any with jell-o," Ortensia said,

"Maw!" 26 exclaimed.

"You know the house rules," Ortensia said, eyeing the child. "When special dessert's made, you wait till it's served."

"What about the rule that says after dinner you get dessert?" 26 asked.

"You know that only applies to wrapped candy," Ortensia said, her ears flattening.

"You might wanna stop now, before you're sent to bed early," Oswald warned, eyeing the boy.

26 held his mouth open a moment in disbelief before hardening his features. He made his way to the end of the table, wiping down the opposite of what 401 had already done.

"See, not all peaches and cream," Ortensia pointed out before shoving the last of her dinner in her mouth.

"I didn't expect it to be," Michael offered. "I had just meant that you had done a great job with your kids. With having so many of them, most people wouldn't be able to handle it."

"My wife isn't most people," Oswald said, giving Ortensia a smile. He rose to his feet and asked the mouse, "You done?"

"I can take it," Michael said, pushing his chair back. "Really, I'm scared to go into the living room on my own."

"Can you take mine? I better see how everyone's doing in there," Ortensia asked, sliding her plate and cup across the table as she rose to her feet.

Oswald took hold of her dishes, stacking them with his own. He looked at Michael and led him into the kitchen as he asked, "Are you still fine with me calling you Michael or am I supposed to call you grandpa?"

Michael let out a laugh as Oswald pushed open the kitchen door and held it open for him. "Whatever's conferrable for you," Michael offered. "It is funny to be a grandfather before my son's even old enough to marry."

"I think I'll just stick to calling you your name," Oswald admitted, his face blushing.

"342, was it?" Michael asked, drawing Oswald's attention to the bunny child putting small bowls of many colors of jell-o onto a rolling cart.

"Yes, sir?" 342 asked, looking up from his work.

"Do you want some help?" Michael asked, sitting his dishes next to where Oswald sat his pile. He watched in surprise as Oswald pulled down a door and put the dirty dishes in with other dishes. "Sorry, what is that?"

"Oh, it's a dishwasher," Oswald said, looking up at the mouse as he knelt down at the cabinet beside the machine. Turning back so he could find what he was looking for he added, "Made life easier when we could finally get one of these things."

"And it does just that, washes the dishes for you?" Michael asked as Oswald pulled out a cube of detergent.

"Yeah," Oswald said with a smile. He held the cube up and explained, "Just put this into the machine," he did as he said, closing the small door to the soap dispenser, "close it up, and turn it on." Oswald stood up and looked at the two boys still loading the trolley with jell-o cups. "You guys got anything to go into this load?"

"No, I think everything's being used," 240 called out as he stepped out of the fridge with a bowl as big as he was.

"Here, let me," Michael offered, taking the few steps to get over to the child. He took the bowl, surprised the bunny could lift it in the first place.

"Thank you, Gran-" 240 froze, his eyes wide as he looked up at the mouse. "Is it alright if I call you Granddad?"

"Yes, it is," Michael said, shifting the bowl to one hand so he could pat the child on the head. "What's in the bowl?"

"Mom's home-made whipped cream," 240 said with a big smile. His smile fell as he turned to Oswald, the rabbit turning on the dishwasher. "Uhm, Dad, 26 got into the whipped cream."

"We already know, but thank you," Oswald offered. He turned around and leaned back against the counter, crossing his arms over his chest. "When you two pass out the jell-os, he doesn't get any, okay?"

"Okay," the two said in unison.

342 pointed to a spot on the trolley free of jell-o and asked, "Could you sit that here?"

The door swung opened as 401 and 26 walked in, going straight to the sink to rinse out their towels. "Well then, ask him, not me!" 401 exclaimed.

"As who what?" Oswald asked, not moving from his spot.

"Paw, what's the last straw?" 26 asked, looking up at the rabbit.

"You're getting on your mother's nerves again, aren't you?" Oswald asked, eyeing the boy.

"Not on purpose," 26 mumbled.

"What happened?" Oswald asked.

26 rung out the towel and hung it on the faucet as he said, "I was just asking if I could move up from building model boats."

"To what?"

"To real boats?"

"That's not how you asked Mom," 401 said as she walked over to her brothers and their desserts.

"Do I wanna know how you asked your mother?" Oswald asked, dragging his hand down his face.

"No, you don't," 401 said over her shoulder as she held her hands behind her back.

Oswald crossed his arms again and said, "The idea's a good one. Maybe once the summer starts up, I can help you get started on it." He smiled at his son, dropping his arms to his sides. "You know, I'm really proud of how well you've gotten in wood work."

26 smiled up at Oswald before pointing towards the door. "I'd better get going. Before Maw thinks I'm eating the whipped cream again." He turned to leave, holding open the door. He looked over his shoulder and added, "Thanks Paw."

"Stay out'a trouble and she won't always be suspicious of you," Oswald said as the child left the door swinging both ways on its hinges.

"Come on, Dad, help us get this to the living room," 342 said, holding a basket of spoons.

Oswald pushed himself away from the counter and walked over to the trolley. "Alright, you got everything?"

"Granddaddy, can you carry the serving spoon?" 401 asked, holding up the large spoon.

"How about you carry that and I'll take one of the baskets of spoons," Michael offered, grabbing the last basket from the counter.

"What time period are you from?" 401 asked, eyeing the mouse.

"If you hurry up and get all of this into the living room, you'll get to learn all about him," Oswald said, leaning his elbows against the trolley's handles. He rose to his full height and smiled as he said, "Now, mush!"

"Dad, we're not dogs," 240 whined, pushing open the door to hold it open.

"How come none of you call him the same thing?" Michael asked, following behind 401 and 342.

"Blame me on that," Oswald admitted as he followed Michael out. 240 let go of the door, letting it swing close, and followed the group to the living room. "When they were little, we couldn't figure out what we wanted to go by," Oswald explained. "So between us changing it up and the different people watching them; add in the movie Poor Papa we did before they were a year old, and it all just means no one could agree on what to call us. Don't mind, really."

"Half of us even change up what we call them," 240 admitted.

"Their grandfather tried to uniform them, at least with his name," Oswald said with a laugh. "He tried for almost ten years."

"Grandma Duck's the only one we all call that, I think," 240 offered.

"Grandma Duck?" Michael echoed, looking at Oswald for answers.

"Friend of the family," Oswald offered. "You might even know her, she's old enough. There's a rumor going around that one of their family accidentally cured them all to be immortal."

"You know 42's been trying to debunk that," 401 said.

"And once he proves how Mr. McDuck's been around since the late 1800s, I'll help him stop the rumors," Oswald said.

"I'm from the 1800s," Michael offered.

"You don't quite count, you time traveled," Oswald said, throwing the mouse a glance.

The five came to a stop in the dog run, right outside the living room door. "We're not gonna bring it in?" Michael asked, still holding the basket of spoons.

"You can sit those here," 342 offered as he and his brother sat their basket on the floor. "We have a system."

"You might wanna go ahead and grab yours now," Oswald warned, already picking out a bowl with blue jell-o and a red one. "Which fruit do you like best?"

"Banana?"

"Yellow's lemon," 342 warned.

"Lemon's good too," Michael said, picking up a bowl with yellow gelatin.

Oswald opened the container of whipped cream and spooned out a dollop on both jell-os in hand. He turned to Michael and asked, "Want some?"

"Sure." Michael held his bowl out for Oswald to plop the cream on top. He leaned down and grabbed three spoons, holding two out for Oswald.

"Thanks," Oswald said, taking the spoons. "Now stay behind me so you don't get trampled."

Michael did as suggested, poking his head aside Oswald as the two stepped into the living room.

"Dessert's ready," Oswald announced, making a path through pillows on the floor.

A hoard of bunnies jumped to their feet and raced towards the door. Oswald led a safe passage through the fluffy blue sea of ears. Michael held his bowl in both hands above his head, fearful it might slip. The two made it out of the mass and found Ortensia sitting on the sofa talking to 26 on a pillow on the floor.

"Pa said I could once summer started," 26 defended, gripping the pillow between his legs.

Ortensia looked up to see the two walking towards her. "Michael, the kids want you to sit in that chair," Ortensia said, pointing towards the recliner.

"Oh, okay," Michael said, taking the set.

Oswald handed Ortensia the blue jell-o and sat on the sofa beside his wife as he asked, "What's going on?"

"Did you say he could build his warship this summer?" Ortensia asked, eyeing her son.

"Warship?" Oswald echoed. He looked down at the boy and said, "You didn't say it was gonna be a warship."

"It's not," 26 whined, leaning forwards. "You know that viking ship I've been making? The Oseberg?"

Oswald nodded his head, taking a spoonful of his dessert to eat.

"I wanna make a ride-able one, not original sized," 26 said. "Sure the vikings used it as a warship, but I wouldn't be able to."

"I don't see what the problem is," Oswald admitted around the mouthful. He swallowed and looked at his wife. "If it's about if he'll be safe, I promised to help."

"Oh, it's not that," Ortensia said with a sigh. She sat back in the sofa's cushions and admitted in a whisper, "I'm just trying to find out what he plans to do with the thing once he's done."

Oswald let out a laugh, leaning over to steal a kiss on the lips. Once he broke away he whispered, "We'll cross that bridge if we get to it." He leaned back and, letting his voice go back to a normal volume, added, "Trust him, building a ship will be good for him."

"Oh alright," Ortensia said, giving Oswald a smile. She looked down at 26, noticing he had turned his eyes away from them. He noticed her gaze out of the corner of his eyes and looked up at his parents. "You can build your boat this summer."

"Yes!"

"But no weapons on it," Ortensia warned.

26 opened his mouth only to stop himself. Closing his mouth, he gave her a nod. "Yes, ma'am."

"You know, there's weapons in my stories," Michael said before finishing the last bite of his dessert.

"Oh, I don't have a problem with them," Ortensia said with a smile. Her smile fell into a growl as she looked down at 26 and added, "It's just when someone doesn't follow the safety rules."

"I still don't think I should be blamed for something that happened while both my parents were MIA," 26 said, crossing his arms over his chest.

"26!" Oswald exclaimed.

"You think I wanted to be in stone for all those years?" Ortensia asked, enraged.

"Uh no, the last straw," 401 mumbled as she took her seat at the other side of Michael's feet.

Ortensia narrowed her eyes before ordering in a hushed voice, "Go to your room."

Those close enough turned in surprise, seeing 26 rise to his feet. He grabbed his pillow in a fist and grumble, "Like I wanted to hear about more of Uncle Mickey's relatives."

"You want that to be your last words?" Ortensia asked.

"No, I love you but it's really hard right now!" 26 yelled before storming out of the room.

Oswald turned to Michael, noticing the mouse watching with tight lips. "Sorry," he offered, drawing Michael's eyes to him. "Guess welcome to the family?"

"Actually I'm rather impressed, "Michael admitted. "Wish my kids would tell me that even when they're mad."

"When you've been through everything we have," 401 admitted, looking up at her parents to give them a smile. Turning back to the mouse she asked, "Are you gonna tell us stories now?"

"Let's see, where should I start?" Michael said as sounds of shushing filled the room. Once it was quiet he smile and said, "My parents started a steam powered fairy up and down the river, but I have always been allergic to pitch so when I was about twelve or so I asked if I could start my own adventure. There were these men at the local general store talking about fighting the Mexicans down in the Alamo and I saw that as my way out of town."