CHAPTER FOUR
Uncle Scrooge has a pretty neat office inside his mansion. Apparently he doesn't use it a lot, but the seats are comfy and there's this giant tv that he told me to use as long as I kept the volume low. So while Uncle Scrooge is talking on the phone with presidents and dictating letters to some lady secretary, I was lounging around in my blue shirt flipping channels and trying to find something boring enough to fall asleep watching. For some reason, I just wanted things to feel normal for a little while.
I kept skipping past the news stations, because all they had on was the destroyed cruise ship. I saw some headlines asking if we should go to war with Loonsvania, so I guess Uncle Scrooge was keeping busy to prevent that.
Finally I found something mindless that didn't remind me of Uncle Donald or Huey or Louie or anyone else, and I set down the remote.
"We interrupt this program to bring you more news about the cruise ship calamity that some are calling-"
I quickly pressed the power button, and the tv went dark. So much for watching cartoons.
"Dewey? Are ya alright, lad?" Uncle Scrooge asked from his desk.
"Not really," I said, curling up in a futile attempt to become one with the couch.
"Mrs. Featherby, take a two minute break." I heard Uncle Scrooge say, and then I felt rather than heard him as he walked over and sat down on the couch next to me.
"What channel were you watching?" He asked. I mumbled the answer, and when he asked what show I wanted to see I mumbled that too.
"Right," he said, and I looked over at him in time to see him pull out a phone from his pocket. He didn't take long to dial.
"Hello, Harry. This is Scrooge McDuck." He said, "Listen very carefully. I don't want any news about the ship on any of my children's channels. Not a single word, do you hear? I just saw one just now, and I am not happy. What?...Yes yes, you still have your job. I'm not firing you just yet, Harry. Also, there's a show I want you ta marathon. I don't care about any of the scheduled programming, I want you to play episodes of this for the next twelve hours. And I want that without commercials. Is that clear?"
Uncle Scrooge told this Harry guy a few more things, like the name of the show I wanted to watch, then hung up the phone and ruffled my head.
"There now," he said, reaching for the remote and turning the tv back on, "You won't see that again, lad."
And just as he said, the news segment was gone. Instead, the cartoon was playing again.
"Mrs. Featherby, are you done with your break?" Uncle's Scrooge asked, leaving the couch.
"Yes Mr. McDuck," said the woman, "Would you like to continue with this letter to the president, or the letter to the prime minister?"
So for the next three hours, I listened partly to Uncle Scrooge and partly to the cartoon on tv as it played episode after episode. I think it was somewhere around the sixth or seventh episode when I fell asleep.
For the first time in a while, I was hungry.
The tv was still on and I could still hear Uncle Scrooge working, but I was actually hungry.
So I sat up and looked over at my uncle. He was shouting into three telephones and at Mrs. Featherby all at once, but when he saw me he interrupted himself.
"Dewey? Do ya have something to say?" He asked.
"Um," I began, "Can I go to the kitchen?"
Uncle Scrooge nodded, then shouted at all three phones and one secretary: "That's enough for now. Finish the rest yourselves." And with that, he hung up and brushed off imaginary dust as he stood up.
"I'll go with you, lad." He said, grabbing his cane, "It's about time for lunch anyway."
"Mr. McDuck, would you like me to send for delivery?" Mrs. Featherby asked, dutifully organizing a few folders while speaking.
"Are they still outside?"
"Yes, Mr. McDuck."
Vaguely I wondered who 'they' was referring to, but it didn't really matter.
"Hm." Uncle Scrooge said, "Then it may be better ta stay inside for a while. Anyone deliverin' wouldnae be able ta make it to the door."
"I could go get food, if you like." Mrs. Featherby offered, "My sister is a bodyguard for a famous movie star, and she taught me a thing or two. I guarantee you I can get through that crowd and back safely."
Uncle Scrooge nodded. "Alright." He said, "But take a weapon fer self defense. Those animals can be mighty vicious."
"Crowd?" I asked.
"Paparazzi." Uncle Scrooge answered, shuddering. "Animals, the lot of them. What would ya like to eat, lad?"
"It doesn't matter." I said. "But Uncle Scrooge, why would paparazzi be outside?"
"Mrs. Featherby, please get whatever it is that kids eat these days." Uncle Scrooge instructed, ignoring my question.
"Certainly, Mr. McDuck." Mrs. Featherby said, taking a single shield off the office wall. Nearby were several knives, swords, bear spray and businessman spray, so I was surprised when she took only the shield.
When she came back with pizza, not a hair in her bun was out of place. But for some reason, the shield had several mysterious dents that I don't think were there earlier.
...
...
...
"Look, I know this looks bad-"
"Looks bad? It's very bad! Just look at my hands, does this thing look normal to you?"
"Come on, at least it's in the front. They could be tied in the back."
"You both realize they're trying to start a war, right? And right now, we're the bait."
"...Alright, so it's bad. At least we're together."
"..."
"..."
"Fine, I admit it. That sentence was really corny."