The next day, Mickey and Minnie were walking Pluto, when they came across none other than Mortimer.
"Ha-cha-cha!" he shouted, as he walked over, and leaned on Mickey's head. "Hiya, Minnie!"
"Goodbye, Mortimer!" Mickey shouted, pushing his rival's arm off of him.
"Oh, sorry, Shorty," Mortimer said, with a laugh. "Didn't see ya there."
"Very funny," Mickey said. Pluto began growling.
"So, Minnie," Mortimer said, shoving Mickey out of his way, "how's about ditching this twerp for a real man?"
"Twerp?!" Mickey shouted. Then he began raising his fists. "Why, I oughta . . . . ."
"No thank you, Mortimer," Minnie said. "I already have a date."
"Seriously, Minnie," Mortimer said. "What do you see in this guy?! What's the matter with me?! Why won't you go out with me?!"
"Do you really want to know?" Minnie asked.
"Yes!" Mortimer shouted. "Tell me already!"
"Okay, but remember," Minnie said. "You asked for it."
Minnie cracked her knuckles, and took a deep breath.
"You're self-centered, sleazy, rude, obnoxious, insensitive, sexist, and annoying," she said.
"Yeah, but aside from all that, why won't you go out with me?" Mortimer asked.
"Ooohhhh!" Minnie groaned frustratedly, while Mickey smacked his hand over his eyes, and shook his head.
"Geez, Minnie, come on!" Mortimer went on. "What do I have to do to get you to go out with me?"
"Have you tried a personality transplant?" Mickey suggested.
"Oh very funny, Mick!" Mortimer shouted. "You're a million laughs!"
Mickey, Minnie, and Pluto began to walk off, laughing. Mortimer watched them go, seething.
"I've gotta find a way to turn Minnie's attention toward me instead of that little runt," he said. "But what's gonna do it?"
Mortimer began walking down the street in the opposite direction from Mickey and Minnie. As he was thinking of what to do to divert Minnie's affections from Mickey to himself, he remembered something.
"Ha-cha-cha!" he shouted. "That's it! Chicks love jewelry. I'll go get her that rock from the Duckburg Museum! What girl could resist that?"
And with that, Mortimer raced toward the museum. He walked in, and went directly to the Greeziturkian/Dragonwilde exhibit. He found the emerald, and began to inspect it. It was in a glass case on top of a podium, and roped off.
"Hmmm," Mortimer said, thoughtfully. "How am I gonna get that rock outta there without looking suspicious?"
Mortimer thought this over, until he saw the museum's janitor sweeping up the floor nearby. Then he snapped his fingers.
"Ah ha! That's it!" he shouted. He dashed to the closest broom closet, and ran inside. He came out a few minutes later wearing a janitor's uniform and fake mustache. Then he took a broom, and began to sweep it along the floor, whistling. Then, he swept over to the emerald, ducked under the ropes, and pulled a feather duster out of hammer space, and began dusting the glass case, while patrons walked by, all the while whistling. Then he pulled a book out of hammer space and opened it.
"Let me see here," he said. "According to the Official Bad Guy Handbook, in order to effectively swipe a jewel, one must replace it with a fake. Well, it's a good thing I've got this old green rock with me."
Mortimer looked to his left, then he looked to his right. When the coast was clear, he carefully lifted the glass case, and switched the emerald with a worthless rock in the blink of an eye. Then he stashed the emerald, and started to walk out of the museum, when he was suddenly grabbed by the back of the shirt collar.
"And just where do you think you're going?!" a security guard asked.
"Who me?" Mortimer asked. "I, uhh, I was, umm, I . . . . ."
"You're shift's not over yet, bub! You know you're not outta here until midnight! Get back to work! And don't forget, I'll be watching you!"
"Oh. Oh yeah, yeah, sure. Sure."
Mortimer gulped, and started sweeping the floor. It was about all he could do, for right now. For one thing, he didn't want to get caught with the emerald! After what seemed like an eternity cleaning floors, Mortimer practically crawled out of the museum, exhausted, but once he realized he had gotten away with stealing the emerald, he perked up, and dashed into a dark alley so he could admire his prize without being noticed.
"Ha-cha-cha!" he shouted. "I got it! I got it! Nothing's gonna stop me from winning Minnie over now!"
Mortimer held the emerald up in his fist toward the full moon, and cackled. As he was cackling, a moonbeam came down from the moon, and hit the emerald, causing it to glow.
"Hey," Mortimer said. "What the heck . . . ."
Before Mortimer could finish his sentence, an electrical charge emitted from the emerald, and Mortimer was practically electrocuted. He was burned to a crisp once it subsided, and there was a small flame on the top of his head, as well.
"Ha-cha-charred," he said, dazedly, falling to the ground, face first, and dropping the emerald. The minute the stone hit the ground, a beam of light appeared out of it, and a wizard appeared from inside of it, like a holographic projection.
"It's about time," the wizard said. "I've been sitting idle in that thing for centuries! Now, let's see what we've got here . . . . ."
The wizard looked over at Mortimer, who was practically kissing the concrete, with a dopey expression on his face.
"Oh boy," the wizard sighed. "This one doesn't look very bright, does he? Hey, you there! Wake up!"
Mortimer leaned up, and shook his head to regain his composure. Then he saw the wizard, and nearly jumped a mile.
"YIPE!" he shouted. "Wh-wh-who are you?!"
"I'm known as Chernoberus," the wizard said. "I've been sitting in that emerald for centuries. Unfortunately, I'm unable to come out. But my magic has been transferred into you."
"Oh yeah?" Mortimer stood up, and picked up the emerald. "You expect me to believe that malarkey?"
"But it's true. Try it out if you don't believe me."
"Yeah, right. I don't believe in this whole magic thing. What do you want me to do? Point my finger, and suddenly a million bucks appears?"
The minute Mortimer said that, a pile of money suddenly appeared at his feet. When he saw that, he jumped back, surprised.
"Hey, what the . . . ." he started. "It worked! Well, ha-cha-cha! Whattaya know about that! Hey, wait a minute . . . . why am I wasting my time with a measly million bucks? I can have anything I want! Even Minnie Mouse! Hey, Mr. Wizard, know any good love spells?"
"Love spells?!" Chernoberus shouted, sounding disgusted. "How dare you even suggest such a thought! Bleeeccchhh! I do not do love spells. The very thought of it makes me sick to my stomach! Love. Disgusting!"
"Ah, come on! This is the girl of my dreams we're talking about here! And I'm obviously the guy of her dreams, too, only she hasn't realized it yet. Why, if it weren't for that rotten little Mickey Mouse . . . ."
"You have competition for this girl's affections, then?"
"Yeah, Mr. Goody-Two-Shoes himself."
Mortimer then began hopping from one leg to another, with a big, cheesy grin plastered on his face.
"Hi, everybody!" he shouted in a high falsetto, trying to imitate Mickey. "I'm Mickey Mouse! Oh boy! I'm such a goody-two-shoes and I love everyone and everything! Gosh, aren't you swell! Put 'er there, pal! Ha, ha!"
"Eeesh," Chernoberus said, grimacing. "I think I see what you mean."
"That mouse makes me sick," Mortimer said. "If I could get him outta the picture, then . . . . ."
Mortimer stopped in mid sentence, and began smiling.
"Saaayyyyy . . . . ." he said. "That gives me an idea! What if we get that little goody-goody out of the way? Send him off to a salt mine in Siberia . . . . . or into outer space . . . . . or even . . . . . yeah, yeah! Ha-cha-cha!"
"I can see this will work out swimmingly," Chernoberus said, with an evil smirk.