It began several weeks before the Science Fest disaster, when the mock lecture had occurred.

St. Canard had been blessed with an early spring that year, and the local university campus was bustling with activity. The groundskeepers were busy tending the budding gardens, as well as gathering the old, dead leaves from the previous fall that had escaped them and hid during the winter. Many students could be seen studying in the sunshine, occupying any table or bench they could find, or even just sitting in the cool grass. Others still preferred the library, each building's common areas, or the dorms, but still appreciated the early blooms. And even more were taking breaks from their strenuous classes, just basking in the sun's rays or taking a stroll around the school's pond.

A particular lecture hall that day had a class on Advanced Molecular and Cellular Biology, where several young adults were already gathered. Rhoda Dendron was one of those students that had arrived early, having already sat down at one of the tables and taken a notebook and pencils out of her satchel. A bespectacled young lady, all dressed up in a pink blouse, a matching headband in her shoulder-length hair, a purple, knee-length pleated skirt, and Mary Jane shoes, she looked like a model student. She simply waited for other students and the professor to arrive, hands clasped together and one leg crossed over the other.

She watched as more students filed in, many of them engaged in conversation. She caught tidbits of family drama, TV shows, and recent news, but it was none of her business. After all, she was here to learn, not gossip. She did instinctively lean away when two large ducks—the dark-haired Gary Farr and the redheaded Larson Seidel, who looked so alike that people wondered if they were related—passed her. She responded to some classmates waving to her with a nod, but otherwise preferred to contentedly look through notes from previous classes.

It wasn't too long, when the majority of the class had settled in and were waiting for the professor, before commotion would erupt with the arrival of one last student.

The doors were kicked open, and a voice shouted, "Oh, thank goodness I'm not late!"

All eyes turned to the last student. The baby cheeks, the small frame, and the big, blue eyes immediately gave away that this was Reginald Bushroot. What was also immediately obvious was that all over his white feathers, clothing, and backpack was a sticky brown substance. It made various spots on his body clump together haphazardly, especially the feathers atop his head, which made it a wild 'do befitting a mad scientist. He also had a surprising number of leaves and sticks clinging onto his body, making him look as if he were part tree.

Several started to snicker at how ridiculous he looked, others groaned on having to witness this awkward display, and some looked away in secondhand embarrassment. Rhoda, meanwhile, inwardly sighed and thought, Typical Reginald.

Reggie looked around the room, blinking in confusion. "What's so…?" He took a moment to look down, and on seeing bunches of leaves stuck onto his arms, legs, and torso, immediately began to blush. His response was a squeak of, "Oh, dear…"

Gary and Larson rose from their seats, their glasses taking a wicked shine to them. Immediately, they marched toward him. On seeing them approach, Reggie started to shrink away, looking up at them as if they were grizzly bears. With how big they were, hardly anyone could blame the small Reggie for getting ready to flee. However, he couldn't back out of the room, because they had reached forward and pushed the doors shut, trapping him.

Larson reached forward and pinched Reggie's cheek, cackles peppering his speech. "Well, well! It seems we have Reggie Bush-root here to entertain us!"

Reggie weakly smacked at Larson's hand several times until the other duck let go. "C-can we not do this, please? I'm just here to listen to today's lecture."

Gary giggled. "Hear that? He wants to hear a lecture!"

Larson grinned his stupid buck-toothed grin, and picked Reggie up by his backpack. "Well, if he wants a lecture, why don't we give him one?"

Giggling up a storm, the duo skipped to the front of the class, swinging Reggie like a little handbag. They paid no mind to his protests and demands to put him down, and even carelessly swung him in a way that made his shin collide with the table Rhoda sat at. Rhoda had been close enough to the aisle that she could have been accidentally kicked by Reggie, and she jumped at that bang. She also could see Reggie's eyes boggle on impact.

As Reggie cried out in pain and held his leg, Gary and Larson only laughed some more. Their skipping was ridiculous, leaves flew around like confetti with each swing, and they laughed out a silly song as they skipped. There were already a few chuckles from amused classmates flying around.

The duo plopped Reggie on the floor, hands outstretched in their presentation of him. Reggie still held his throbbing shin, but looked up to see the rest of the class staring at him. He stared back much like a deer in headlights.

Gary grabbed a yardstick from the whiteboard, and tapped Reggie on the head with it hard enough to make him wince. "Good morning, class! Today, we will be learning about a super special rare plant, the… um…" He scratched his chin in thought. Then, his eyes lit up and he snapped his fingers. "The Reggium Disastrious!"

Larson snickered. "Indeed it is a special plant. It's a type of bush that sprouts leaves not just on its branches…" He took Reggie's arm and lifted it up to show the class. He dropped it to gesture to Reggie's torso, and finished, "But on its trunk as well!"

Plenty of students covered their mouths as they chuckled, almost in shame for acting so childish. Rhoda just sighed, wondering when the professor would walk in and stop this nonsense.

Reggie, now apparently having recovered from the collision with the desk, scrambled to his feet. "Hey! What am I, some sort of museum exhibition?"

He was immediately brought back down by another bonk to the head with the yardstick.

Gary grabbed a leaf from Reggie's head and yanked it off. Reggie yelped, and the large head feather that was stuck to the leaf made it plain as to why it hurt. "And judging by this leaf, it secretes a sticky substance, possibly to discourage animals from eating it, lest their mouths be glued together and they starve to death. And be extra careful, it's quite toxic."

"And explosive," Larson added.

Reggie rubbed his head. "I-it's just maple syrup! I had pancakes for breakfast!" It was at that point that he realized that his hand was stuck to the fluff on his head. He started to work on peeling his hand off without removing any feathers, glancing so often to his increasingly amused classmates.

"Oh, wow, he eats like an animal the way he's covered," one guy laughed.

"Where did he even get all those leaves?" one girl pondered.

"Soooo, is that syrup or glue, Veggie?" another girl shouted.

Reggie finally pried his hand free, and whirled around to glare at them. "H-hey! Aren't we all adults here? And I told you not to call me that…"

"Aw, man up! Nothing wrong with a little ribbing!" another classmate said. "Besides, you're looking like a vegetable right now."

"At last, he is one with nature!" another shouted.

Rhoda watched as a good chunk of the class burst into a round of laughter. She didn't quite get what was funny; the insult wasn't particularly clever. But, as always, it was enough to make Reggie shrink back, looking in shame at the leaves stuck all over his body.

She tapped her foot impatiently. She would have thought that making fun of Reggie had gotten old long ago. How long was she going to tolerate this nonsense? Where was the professor?

Reggie flushed. "B-b-but, I don't… I mean..."

Larson clamped Reggie's bill shut. "We must give you another warning about Reggium Disastrious."

Yet again, to emphasize his friend's words, Gary bopped Reggie's head with the yardstick. "You see, it is a terrible omen! Legends state that it causes mayhem wherever it grows! Why, I recall that it was present at the lab explosion of Audubon High."

Rhoda could hear the "Ooooh's" and the snickers all around. She could even catch the whispers about lab incidents in her classmates' high schools and the joking wonderings of the "terrible omen" possibly having grown nearby.

Reggie pulled his bill out of Larson's grasp and gasped for air. "That wasn't my fault; you sabotaged my assignment!"

Gary bonked him on the head yet again, and Reggie whirled around to face him. "Stop that!"

Larson held up his index finger in the stereotypical smart cookie kind of way. "It also grew at Birdbrain Elementary, and there was a mold problem right after the school science fair."

Reggie turned to him, his hands balled up in trembling fists. "My science project had nothing to do with it!" When he was bonked on the head again, he tried to lunge for the yardstick, but a giggling Gary just held it up over his head where Reggie couldn't reach.

Encouraged by their classmates' laughter, Gary added, "Oh, Larson! I just remembered! You know Goodfeather Middle School's Great Acorn Flood? Didn't Reggium Disastrious grow there too?"

Larson wheezed. "Oh, yeah! The janitor was sweeping up nuts and shooing out squirrels for weeks! And thus, every Goodfeather Gladiator's unofficial battle cry is…"

They threw their arms over each others' shoulders and shouted, "INFINITE ACORNS!"

It was then that the class erupted into laughter, most bearing the mental image of a wave of acorns sweeping through a middle school hallway, somehow being the fault of Reggie Bushroot. A few had actually been there to witness it, and the absurdity of the situation made them laugh at the memory of it. Even Rhoda caved and giggled about it, being one of those who had attended Goodfeather.

"But… b-but how was I supposed to know that..." Reggie began.

Gary giggled and patted Reggie on the head, glancing at Larson. "Oh, aren't you glad for getting to witness just about every 'Reggie Tale' since first grade?"

Larson snickered and pinched Reggie's cheek. "Hey, we can't expect less than the best from our favorite little mad scientist!"

Their laughter joined the chorus. What was once a room of adults had morphed into a crowd of immature children, ganging up on the little guy. Even though some of them weren't inclined to start social lynch mobs like this, they ended up getting swept up in the mock lecture.

Being part of that crowd for even a minute would prove shameful for Rhoda Dendron. Having spent that minute giggling over the acorn flood, it only took one look at Reggie to make her stop.

He was so small in comparison to the wave of mockery he faced. Each jeer and guffaw appeared to beat on him as he stood in that unwanted spotlight, dressed in leaves and syrup covered clothing. As much as he sputtered in his attempt to explain the how and why of the event, Reggie was just drowned out by the laughter. The noise appeared to put a physical weight on him, making him sink down to the floor in defeat.

It was like a stab to her chest. It was one thing for Rhoda to know of the frequent embarrassments that Reginald got himself into, and just stay in her own lane. It was another to end up joining in on laughing at him, despite the clear pain in his blue eyes. Even worse, at one point, he even appeared to be looking straight at her.

Now sick to her stomach, she wondered why no one else saw it.

The laughter abruptly stopped when the doors opened. The professor, an older dog lady, walked in, carrying her laptop and several other items for her lecture. "Good morning, it sounds like you people went ahead and made your own fun while waiting for me. Good for you, but I'm going to have to end it and start the lecture."

There were a few "Awww's" in the crowd, but there was little complaint otherwise.

The moment the door had clicked, Gary and Larson were quick to switch gears. They put the yardstick back in place, and took to picking leaves off Reggie's person, like the good, helpful "friends" they were. By the time the teacher actually looked at them, they had put their sweetest faces on. Thus, they said in unison, "Good morning, Professor Spaniel!"

Professor Spaniel was about halfway down when she noticed the three students at the front of the room—mainly the one sitting on the floor, covered in leaves. With a groan, she asked, "And why are you such a mess?"

Reggie twiddled his thumbs. "I, uh… had pancakes for breakfast… a-and I was in a hurry, so I cut through our nursery… and the woods… a-and the school's gardens where the groundskeeper was blowing old dead leaves away… I-I didn't quite realize I was a sticky mess until I arrived…" His rambling faded into mumbles as he glanced around the room at his silently snickering classmates.

Gary put on his best innocent face. "We were just trying to help him clean up before class!"

Rhoda glared at them.

Larson sprinted to Professor Spaniel and took her items. "Here, let me help you bring these up front."

"Oh, thank you," Professor Spaniel said, just watching as Larson carried the items to the front table, and arranged the items with Gary's help. They even started setting up the equipment.

As the duo did so, Professor Spaniel looked down at Reggie and shook her head. "You should go clean up. Looking like a shrub isn't what I'd call good hygiene."

Reggie's eyes fell to the floor, and he stood up. "Yes, Ma'am."

He silently plodded up the aisle, gripping the straps of his backpack as if they were a lifeline, and shrinking into himself in an effort to hide from the stares. It was not an uncommon posture from him, Rhoda realized, as suddenly memories of passing by that one slouching classmate in school halls, watching that classmate slink into class and silently slip into his seat, and seeing that classmate sitting alone at lunch came to her mind. As a child, a teenager, or a young adult, Reginald Bushroot was that classmate.

Before Reggie even reached the door, he tripped, and slammed into the floor with a bang. Rhoda saw the leg of a classmate, and saw that Reggie turned to glare at the perpetrator. But, he said nothing, and his scowl fell back into a glum face. He got back on his feet, and shuffled off, presumably to the restroom.

The professor, somehow not noticing the leg that tripped Reggie, shut the door and made her way to the front of the room. "All right, now, let me start off with this fascinating fact about cells I looked up the other day…"

Rhoda normally would have been all ears, but she couldn't keep her eyes off the door.

Trudging down the hall, Reggie could just feel the stares in his direction.

There were the teachers, their conversations slowed or paused as they watched the leafy mess march past. There were the young freshmen, taking a few seconds to snicker at the weird sight. There were the older students, whispering in each other's ears. The more people Reggie passed, the longer the walk to the restroom seemed. Oh, how he felt like an utter freak in that moment.

After his mile-long trek, he at last made it to the men's restroom, and slipped in. He shut the door behind him, and leaned back to rest a moment, caring little about the backpack he wore. After staring at the ceiling for a few lengthy seconds, he let out a long, frustrated groan.

"Oh, it feels like high school never ended!"

He pushed himself off the door and walked to one of the sinks. Looking in the mirror, he sagged at the sight of clumps of brown and green foliage sticking to him, giving the duck the look of an ugly autumn tree overrun by dead ivy. His tongue stuck out in disgust for a moment, and he noted that pulling those off was going to take a while. He was going to miss a significant chunk of the lecture.

"Way to go, Reggie—you're a walking salad bar," he sighed. He shuffled to the trash can and dragged it over to his sink. Then, he started to carefully peel the leaves and sticks off his feathers and clothing, dropping them in the can.

"I swear, I can't go a day without them harassing me," Reggie grumbled, attempting to fix the plumage on his head. "Why didn't they leave that attitude behind in high school? Why didn't they go to literally any other university in the country? Why don't they just leave me alone? The joke's been old for years!"

How he got the bad luck to be followed by bullies from his K-12 years, he did not know. The best he could guess was that their parents had the same idea his did—going to the nearby university was just easier and cheaper than, say, flying the kids across the country. And while he could avoid the athletes much more easily in college than in high school, his main tormentors were fellow nerds that he couldn't escape as easily. And even worse, they had infected the out-of-towners.

He pulled a leaf free from his head feathers, and crushed it with his hand. "Ooohoho, if I could, I'd… I'd…"

As much as he entertained the thought of somehow bringing his tormentors down to their knees, there was no way that it was ever going to happen. After all, he was a little wimp with a track record of being a walking disaster. All he could really hope for was soldiering through until he could escape those jerks for good.

But, then again, that's exactly what he thought years ago, graduating high school and hoping college would be a fresh start. Clearly, he was doomed to have Gary and Larson as lab partners no matter what, who would still pick on him into his old age. They'd probably laugh at his funeral.

Someone walked into the restroom at that moment, and stopped to stare at him. Reggie glared at him through the mirror, and grumbled at him to move along, do his business, and leave him alone. The guy just slipped into a stall, and Reggie was grateful to not hear any snickers from him. After his humiliation in the lecture hall, it would be just salt on the wound.

He managed to pick some leaves out of his head feathers and brush some off his clothes, but thanks to the syrup, he still had a ways to go. He cursed himself for eating so hastily, and cursed that particular brand of syrup for being so sticky. As much as he disliked his classmates, he disliked missing a lecture even less. There could be some important information in it! Somehow, he needed to clean up faster without having to run all the way home to take a shower.

As he pondered this, he heard a leaf blower outside.

Now armed with an idea, he darted out of the bathroom into the hallway, and ran a short distance until he burst out the doors into the sunlight. Sure enough, there was one of the groundskeepers in sight, blowing dead leaves out of the bushes grown along the building's walls. Taking a deep breath, Reggie made his approach to the dog man. It wasn't long until the roar of the blower died thanks to the groundskeeper cutting the engine and preparing to move on.

"Hey, uh… can you help me out, sir?" he asked.

The groundskeeper looked up, and blinked at the walking bush that was Reggie. "Erm, sure thing, boy. Guess you askin' for a little cleanup, huh?"

Reggie nodded.

"All right, then, be sure to stand your ground, the blower's pretty strong." The groundskeeper backed up, aimed the nozzle at Reggie, and turned it on.

The good news was that the majority of the leaves exploded right off of Reggie. The bad news was that the force of the blast made him nearly fly off the ground, and he ended up stumbling backwards into another duck that just exited the building. The result was a pair of ducks slapped together into a pile on the pavement.

As Reggie stared up at the sky, trying to process what just happened, the duck he was laying on said, "I would appreciate it if you would get off of me."

Every student and faculty member of the science building knew that stern tone, and in a panic, he peeled himself off the other duck-with a little extra effort thanks to the syrup on his person. He whirled around to face the form of the dean, who was picking himself up, dusting himself off, and pondering why there were suddenly sticky spots on his suit. The dean looked up at Reggie with a bushy-browed glare.

Seeing that glare, the groundskeeper backed up and muttered, "I'm gonna… pick up those leaves now…" And with that, he turned and left the two ducks alone.

Reggie put his hands behind his back. "Hi, Dean Tightbill."

"And a good morning to you, Mr. Bushroot," Dean Tightbill said. "I see that you are not at your cleanest today."

"I-I-It's syrup, sir," Reggie muttered. "I, uh, kinda ate on the run…"

"Hm. Perhaps in the future, you should schedule enough time to eat your breakfast cleanly at home. It would help to avoid gathering dead foliage and then leaving a trail of leaves in the hallway, or leaving some residue on whoever you bump into." The Dean pinched at his suit, which stuck to his fingers a second longer than they should have.

Reggie grimaced. "Sorry."

"And I do hope that whatever's in your backpack isn't ruined by our collision."

Reggie's eyes widened, and he swung the backpack off his back and to his front, where he opened it and rummaged through the contents inside. "Okay, books are okay, binder's okay, notebook's okay, laptop's okay… wait, where's my lunch? Oh, fertilizer, I forgot my lunch in my rush!"

Perfect, he was going hungry today. He wondered how his day could get worse.

Sure enough, he heard shouts from across the campus. Some folks were delighted and some were spooked, but all were definitely surprised. The jingling of approaching dog tags gave Reggie a clue as to what the fuss was about. He hoped that it wasn't headed for him. It wasn't that he was afraid of dogs-he was more worried that it was a specific dog.

"Get back here, you mutt!"

The campus officer went unheeded, and from around the corner of the testing center came a golden-brown dog, carrying a sack lunch in its mouth. No one could pin down a single breed for the canine, with its eyes shielded by a shaggy red mop not unlike a sheepdog's, long black ears dancing with each stride, and thin tail wagging so hard it looked ready to snap in half. There were also a couple black spots on its back. Regardless, the Dean was giving Reggie an even more sour look over this dog.

The dog skidded to a stop in front of Reggie, proudly presenting the sack lunch.

Reggie nervously glanced at the Dean and took the lunch. "Thanks, Spike."

Spike beamed, and jumped up to lean onto Reggie and lick his face. Despite Reggie's pleas of "Not right now!", Spike only licked harder when he tasted the syrup. The force quickly became such that sent Reggie onto his rear and at the mercy of an excited dog's tongue. All the while, the young duck was still aware of the Dean's disapproving glare.

The officer finally caught up, huffing and puffing and giving Reggie the glare of the year. "Why is it… that whenever a dog shows up on campus… it's your mongrel?!"

Spike stopped, and turned to the officer with a growl. Reggie immediately sat up, and hooked Spike's collar with two fingers. "Eheheh, well, actually, I've seen service dogs around here…"

"You know what he means, Mr. Bushroot," Tightbill said. "The sheer irresponsibility of not making sure your home's secure enough to keep that dog in! I do remember the shenanigans that your pet has gotten up to every time he shows up looking for you for one reason or another-the cat incident, for example."

"U-uh, no shenanigans this time!" Reggie exclaimed with a sheepish grin. He glanced down at Spike, who just remembered Reggie was covered in syrup and started licking his hand. "He's just bringing me my lunch, that's all."

"Uh-huh." The officer took out his pen and pocket notebook, and started to write in it. "But, let's not forget that having a dog on campus without a leash is a violation of school policy."

Reggie sighed. "How can I forget?"

Then, another person came running onto the scene-a middle-aged female duck, plump of build, feathers of cream with matching hair, and eyes of blue. She was carrying a leash.

"Spike! D'oh, how many times do I have to-" She looked up at the men standing around the dog, and her eyes landed on the youngest in the group. "Oh, hi, Reggie! Didn't expect to see you outside."

Reggie's sheepish grin returned. "Hi, Mom."

"Hello, Mrs. Bushroot," Tightbill said coolly.

Heather Bushroot quickly hooked the leash onto Spike. "I'm so sorry, Dean, this little rascal manages to slip away when I have my back turned! Did he cause any damage?" She turned to the officer. "Do I have to pay a fine again?"

The officer crossed his arms. "Yes."

"Perfect," Heather deadpanned. She turned to Reggie and scanned him up and down. "My word, Reggie, you're a mess!"

Reggie sighed. "I know… but, I'm cleaner than I was before! That's good!" He put two thumbs up in a weak effort to celebrate that progress. His awkward grin grew wider as Spike resumed licking the syrup off of him. "Can I just go back to class?"

Heather just stared at him a moment and asked, "You want me to bring you a change of clothes?"

Reggie slumped forward and stood up. "Yes, Mom." He spun on his heel and walked back into the building. "I'll be washing up as much as I can in the bathroom."

When Reggie was out of earshot, Dean Tightbill turned to Heather and said, "Sometimes I worry that you and James babied that boy a little too much, Heather. He's an adult, you know, and one day, he's going to be on his own, and I'm hoping he's not still a disaster the day it happens."

Heather glared at him. "I'd appreciate you not calling my son a disaster! Besides, bringing him a change of clothes isn't babying him, Dean. Now, I need to bring Spike home and open the shop."

But, before she walked off, the officer stopped her and reminded her of the fine.

After scrubbing the remaining syrup off his feathers and changing into clean clothes, Reginald Bushroot finally made it back to the lecture hall. He slipped into a seat in the back, took out a notebook, and took as many notes as he could.

However, he only caught the last ten minutes of it.

Class was dismissed, and members of the class filed out. Reggie still sat, however, watching everyone as they left, smiling and talking. Some were happy to have learned something new, based on some of the out-of-context details he gathered, while others were clearly happy to get out of the classroom. Either way, no doubt Reggie had a hole in his knowledge that nobody else there had-with his chain of bad luck that morning on his mind instead. He just sank in his seat, weary before the day was even half-done.

He shrank at the sight of Gary and Larson. The two noticed, and as such, the former ruffled his messy head feathers, and the latter pinched his cheek, remarking on the wonderful lecture they had made earlier, and how they were sorry he missed this class. A scowling Reggie pushed both hands away and started to rub his sore cheek, grumbling at them to leave him alone. The two larger ducks just walked away snickering.

His glare lingered on them a little longer, wishing they'd grow up.

Then, Rhoda Dendron passed by, and his heart skipped a beat. Her creamy feathers glowed with a heavenly light, her wavy, shoulder-length brown hair bounced with each step, and her dark eyes shone with new knowledge. Reggie had found her quite pretty in middle school, and that hadn't changed as the years went by. In fact, he found her more lovely with each passing year. He always wanted her to notice him, but he didn't have much luck.

And yet, what ultimately did make her notice him was his humiliation.

He pitifully hid behind his backpack until Rhoda passed, hoping that she didn't look at him. Right now, he wasn't sure he wanted to be noticed by her, even if he was now clean. For the moment, he should probably focus on trying to make up for missing most of the class.

The students all left, and Professor Spaniel was cleaning up. Taking a deep breath, he stood up, and went down to the front to talk to her. Hopefully she had a way for him to make up for missing the class.

A/N: At last, we meet our main man, Reggie!

Between him being younger here and that we don't really know what the original Reggie's true hair color as a normal duck was before he went bald, I just have him with some messy head feathers (which I imagined parted kind of like his counterpart's purple petal hair).

On the topic of Gary and Larson, those were probably their last names in the original cartoon, but since we know them by those names, I'm just gonna make those their first names and give them different last names. Also, I checked to see which one was which-Larson was the redheaded, bucktoothed one, while Gary's the one who was graying and balding (he's given dark hair here, because, again, younger). I did think of making them brothers, but I dropped that idea.

And yes, Spike's here! Making him an actual dog is one of the crazy ideas that are in here.