Biplane Follies

By the time Monk reached the top of the ladder, Sharona was limping and Lieutenant Disher was rubbing his neck.

"Way'd it go Monk," he complained.

They went out the vault door, Disher slamming it behind them.

Launchpad McQuack had already arrived, or rather crashed nearby. The tall, orange haired duck, dressed like an old school aviator, was standing rather sheepishly before Mr. McDuck.

As his side was a Doofus Drake, a large young duck wearing a junior woodchuck hat and eating a messy peanut butter and jelly sandwich. With his mouth open.

Monk was disgusted.

"YOU IDIOT!" shouted Scrooge McDuck. "I tell you to see if Ma Beagle's up to something! And you just fly over her place!"

"But Mr. McDee. There was nothing there," Launchpad protested. "I'd know if there's a couple zillion dollars laying around."

"A chain's only as strong as it's weakest link," muttered McDuck. "Three and half million dollars - plus expenses - and I could have probably found it myself."

"Launchpad did a great job," insisted Doofus.

Sharona felt inclined to agree with him.

"So this is the big city detective," said Launchpad suddenly , looking at Disher.

"No, that's only Randall Disher," McDuck explained (Disher frowned). "He's the detective."

Launchpad energetically shook Monk's hand. Sharona produced two wipes.

"Launchpad McQuack," said the pilot. "First-class aviator, world merit badge champion, and Duckburg's greatest hero."

"That's for sure," seconded Doofus.

"And he works cheap," Scrooge put in, disgusted.

"And who are you?" Launchpad asked Sharona.

"Sharona Fleming. I"m Adrian Monk's assistant."

"Here have a picture," Launchpad said, pulling an autographed photograph of himself out of his coat pocket."

Sharona looked at it.

"Doofus Drake."

Before Monk could stop him, Doofus shook his hand, with his own sticky peanut butter and jelly covered one.

"Ugh," Monk groaned, shaking his hand in exasperation.

"Washroom's down the hall," Sharona said.

Monk ran off.

"Gee," said Doofus, "What did I do?"

By the time Monk had cleaned up, McDuck, McQuack and Doofus had left the building. Only Sharona and Disher were waiting outside the washroom door, apparently in conference.

They stopped talking as soon as Monk came out the door.

"Scrooge McDuck want's you to check out Launchpad's biplane," Sharona insisted. "Come on, we're late."

"Yeah, he said he want's you down now, or else we're fired," Disher added.

"He never really hired you," Monk responded.

"Come on, Adrian," Sharona said.

They went down the elevator. But Monk only had to take one look at the lethal hallway before he changed his mind.

"I'll stay here."

"Adrian, Scrooge McDuck turned off his traps."

"You can never be too careful."

"Walk where I walk," Disher told him.

With Disher leading, and Sharona tugging, Monk made his way quickly down the hall, only stepping on the black tiles.

He sighed in relief once they left the bin.

"The biplanes' over there," Disher told him. "Try looking in the backseat.

The small red, open plane was covered in thorns. If Monk didn't know better, he'd be sure the pilot had crashed through some trees, and ploughed through a half acre of thorn bushes, before finally coming to a stop within a half inch of the money bin.

Monk assumed he didn't know better, and the not-so-great Launchpad McQuack wasn't the world's best flyer. Looking carefully, he noticed the biplane had been frequently crashed, broken, patched, repaired, and polished. McQuack was a obviously committed pilot, who frequently crashed. He didn't seem to be involved in the crime though, and Monk felt confident the Beagle Boys had masterminded the crime, without the aid or knowledge of the pilot.

Most of all, Monk concluded he made a wise decision when he turned down Scrooge's offer to have Launchpad fly him into Duckburg.

"Why does he want me to check the plane?" Monk asked. "This guy's been working for McDuck for years. From what I can tell, he doesn't seem like he's an embezzler. But then again . . . if he fly's the way I think he does, he would need Mr. McDuck's money to pay for all the aircrafts he must of destroyed."

"Don't you think it's suspicious he didn't check out Ma Beagle's hide out?" Disher asked.

Sharona mouthed something to Disher, along the lines of "Don't overdo it."

Monk climbed into the back seat.

"He had nothing here besides his autographed photo's, a harmonica, and some spare scarves. I'm 85 percent sure he didn't have anything to do . . . ."

Monk stopped. He realized what Sharona and Disher were up to.

However, it was too late. Sharona and Disher climbed in, on either side of Monk, jamming him into the middle of the back seat (properly only built for one), and making his escape futile.

"It's for you own good Adrian," Sharona apologized. "Mr. McDuck wants to fly to Ma Beagle's. Don't worry, Doofus told me Launchpad was a terrific pilot."

"So did Launchpad," Disher observed, piercingly.

Monk didn't know what was worse. Being squeezed in the back seat, or being about to take off in a biplane.

"Ah, there you are, laddie," McDuck said, climbing into the front seat. "I hope Sharona told you I went to tell Duckworth to take the limo home."

"I think this is a bad idea," Monk commented.

"Flying with Launchpad always is," McDuck replied. "But his plane is the quickest way to Ma Beagle's."

Launchpad frowned as he came up to plane. He had overheard Mr. McDuck.

"Here little buddy," he said, helping Doofus up.

Then he also climbed into the front.

"Oof," McDuck was squeezed almost as badly as Monk.

"Afraid?" Disher asked Sharona.

"No," she replied, bold-faced. "What, are you?"

"Na," Disher answered. "This'll be cool."

"Grow up."

They were interrupted by an "Away we go," from Launchpad.

The plane turned around, and sped down killmotor hill twice as fast as Disher's grandmother's Buick. Just before they hit the main road (and a milk truck), the plane took off. Almost vertically.

Monk fainted.

A few minutes later

"Adrian, Adrian?" Sharona was saying, greatly concerned.

"Am I back in San Francisco?" asked Monk.

"No, we're in a biplane over Duckburg," Disher answered.

Monk looked past Sharona, at the ground hundreds of feet below. He shuddered.

"Adrian!" complained Sharona.

She felt like a blender.

"Great takeoff, huh?" observed Launchpad.

"Yeah, big buddy," said Doofus.

"Get it out of your system," McDuck told him.

"Hey, it was pretty cool!" Disher insisted.

"Takes some skill to pull that off," Sharona told the pilot.

"Skill? You ain't seen nothing yet."

"No Launchpad," groaned Scrooge McDuck. No!"

They did three loops in midair, descended within ten feet of the ground, flew upside down through a barn, made a u turn, climbed to 1000 feet, then went into a tailspin, and leveled off just above the trees.

Monk's face was an extremely unhealthy bluish grey. He was completely petrified. McDuck was furious, his cane gripping the wing, and his left hand gripping his hat. Disher and Doofus were exhilarated. Sharona was surprisingly impressed.

"Never do that again," shouted McDuck, jumping up and down, ready to swig Launchpad with his cane.

"Can't, we're ready to land," Launchpad said.

They were flying over the woods. A small, unpainted wooden house was up ahead, bars in the windows, an ancient car off to the side.

"Uh, oh," he added.

"What!" said Scrooge.

"Fuel line's clogged."

The engine sputtered, and the propeller stopped turning.

"We're gonna crash!" Launchpad told them.

"What else is new?" observed McDuck.

"CRASH!" yelled Disher and Sharona.

Monk was about to faint again.

The plane dived toward the tree, bouncing on the branches of an oak, a maple, a willow, and an apple tree. The apples rained down on them.

Hitting the ground, with three more bounces, the plane crashed softly into the side of Ma Beagle's house. So soft, the propeller didn't even fall off.

"Any crash you can walk away from is a good crash," said the pilot.

"You saved us," Sharona complimented.

"Not by much," commented McDuck. "Launchpad, you'll never work for me again. Your Fired."

"Not again," groaned McQuack.

"This time I mean it."

By this time Disher had unsteady sprawled from the plane, having come around to Monk's opinion of Launchpad McQuack. The violently shivering Monk had also climbed out of the plane, and fell onto the ground himself. If he hadn't been germphobic, he'd have kissed it.

Sharona helped him to his feet. And held him up for a couple minutes, until he could get his feet to support him.

"And I thought it would be tough for him," thought Sharona.

She now had a sore shoulder to match her sore leg.

"D-do you hear something?" Monk asked.

"Must be my stomach," Doofus answered.

"When are you not hungry?" muttered McDuck

"No, someone's calling for help," Monk said, as he unsteadily stumbled toward the house.

"Help, Help!" went the voice. It was a older woman's voice, rather cranky and bitter. It was also extremely hoarse, as if it had pleading for assistance for a long time.

"Brigadoon! It's Ma Beagle!" McDuck pronounced, greatly surprised.

The others ran after Monk, and followed him, through the door, and into the old wooden house.