Author's Note: A drabble I wrote at Thanksgiving. It's kind of really depressing, it doesn't help that I was having a bad day when I wrote it. Just trying to get down NegaDuck's interactions with his daughter. I might redo this, or something, later. Fowl language warning.
Where Unwelcome Gifts Go
While Gosalyn brushed her hair she sang aloud the last tune she heard on the radio before her father yelled at her to turn it off and get downstairs. Using the back of her hands she wiped her ruffled dress down flat and checked herself in the broken mirror before starting out of the room. She knew she had between ten to five more seconds to get downstairs before her father came up after her in a huff.
She could already hear him downstairs, throwing around the kitchen utensils in search of something. It wasn't surprising to her when she came into view of the kitchen and found him surrounded by several broken dishes. Launchpad leaned against the doorframe behind her father, chewing on what looked to be an old piece of meat from the refrigerator. The young girl noted her father's irate demeanor before he even spoke.
Avoiding the broken dishes Gosalyn stepped gingerly took her first true step into the kitchen, her feet cold on the tiling. Bowing respectfully she sweetly asked, "Yes, Lord NegaDuck?"
Straightening from the bow the girl noticed her father's not phased face, thinking to herself: I wonder how badly he was defeated this time?
"Don't you, 'Yes, Lord NegaDuck?' me, you insolent little pain in my ass. What is this?" NegaDuck pointed to several pulled drawers and the kitchen counter full of sparkling clean dishes. Before she could reply with anything, NegaDuck accused, "Haven't I told you not to clean anything up in here, ever?"
"Y-Yes, you have... b-but I..." She began, keeping her ground even though her father's voice frightened her to no end. Launchpad licked his fingers, finished with whatever he'd been devouring, laughing under his breath as he watched the nine-year-old's fearful face.
"But nothing! I come home from a long day of committing crime. And I have to look at this crap! It's like a damn department store display!" He brought a fist down onto the countertop, rattling several china pieces there. His shoulders hunched as he fumed, growling, "I'm too tired to deal with this shit! Where is my dinner...?"
"I'm sorry I didn't make anything yet. Please allow me some time, and I'll make whatever you like..." She softly said, moving from out of in front of the door that connected to the rest of the house. Barely waiting for her to get out of the way, NegaDuck stomped past into the living room. She watched her father flop down onto the broken recliner in the corner. "Is there something you'd like in particular, Lord NegaDuck?"
"No." He said in a short manner, his hands coming up to his temple. "Just bring me something fast, or you'll be sorry."
The girl scampered into the kitchen as she was told. Softly moving the plates around that NegaDuck had put in disarray. Glancing at the calendar she realized the date, muttering, "It's Thanksgiving…"
Launchpad, who was still in the kitchen (perhaps looking for another snack to feast upon) overheard the girl, shaking his head, "What does it matter, kid?"
That brought Gosalyn's mind back to reality, for a split moment she had remembered all things good about the holiday. She remembered when she used to celebrate it with her grandfather, and the one year she got to celebrate it with Taurus Bulba. It was one of her favorite holidays, and just not for the food—she loved being near people that cared about her.
"I know. I know it means nothing." She gave her father's partner-in-crime a saddened look, returning to her task. Launchpad snickered under his breath, saying something about going out again. He's probably going to go hurt more people's lives… She thought to herself as she began to rinse out an empty pot for boiling water in.
She knew she dared not mention the fact that it was a holiday to her father. She knew he'd ground her (or worse) immediately for mentioning anything that had to do with merriment or celebration. So deep inside she wished her father a Happy Thanksgiving, though she longed to speak those words aloud to someone—anyone—who could appreciate them.
In the next room, NegaDuck closed his eyes, wary from a long day of trying to outwit Darkwing in the parallel universe linked to his world. His body drained of energy, he propped his legs up to what remained of the coffee table in front of the couch.
In Darkwing's Saint Canard the streets were littered with imagery of turkeys and Thanksgiving sales. No matter how NegaDuck tried he couldn't escape the happiness of the entire city. He tried destroying the festive garland on every street sign, blowing every turkey image up on sight, and chasing every person that wished him a 'happy holiday' away. NegaDuck hated holidays to say the least, and he despised the ones in the autumn season the most. Thanksgiving wasn't nearly despicable as Christmas but it was enough to make NegaDuck nauseated. He felt with another mentioning of Thanksgiving he would attack them without remorse (not to say he had any of that since the third grade anyhow).
In the kitchen he heard Gosalyn humming to herself. A horrible pastime. NegaDuck thought, but he wasted no energy to yell at her. Shoving his hand into his coat pocket for a moment he retracted it holding a small alcohol bottle. He'd gotten it just before leaving Darkwing's joy-filled universe; it was a small bottle of vodka. It probably wasn't the best in the world but it was enough to probably get him drunk enough to where it wouldn't matter that his daughter was singing. Uncapping the hazy glass bottle he threw his head back, drinking as much as he could handle in a single swallow. Shuttering at the first aftertaste of the liquid he winced, "Damn good kick to it."
His headache would soon be going away, he predicted.
Gosalyn Mallard had cooked at her father's meal for about an hour, making his favorite. He'd never said by any means that it was his favorite. He never 'liked' her cooking. She would endure his insults every meal as he ate. But this meal in particular was his favorite she knew only because he would insult it the most. Strange, yes, but she imagined he was so particularly grumpy about this one since he expected greatness of it.
Placing it on a tray she skipped through the kitchen as she got the final touches on her 'masterpiece'. Heading for the kitchen she ceased her smiling and prepared to done an unhappy face in front of her father. Holding the tray with two hands she began into the living room, saying sweetly, "Lord NegaDuck?"
He did not reply. Going into the living room on further inspection she realized he was asleep where he sat. NegaDuck's head tilted to one side, resting against the back cushions of the couch. She risked a smile, sitting the tray against the ground for a moment as she approached her father. Fingers loosely around a glass bottle NegaDuck snored softly.
Bravely the little girl snickered at her father, pulling her strength together she whispered, "Happy Thanksgiving, father. You're dinner is ready and I don't want it to get cold."
She imagined for a brief second what reply wanted to hear, longed to hear with all of her heart, "It looks delicious! It's my favorite. How did you know?"
"Don't be silly! Of course I know your favorite meal." She whispered to her imaginary reply. Blushing slightly as she pulled a strain of hair from her eyes, "Thank you so much for telling me it's good."
"I hope you made enough for everyone. I invited the neighbors over too! Happy Thanksgiving, sweetheart."
She realized she was crying now. Brushing a hand up against her cheeks to clear away the moisture Gosalyn sighed. Shaking her dream out of her mind, she stood back, saying in a louder tone, "Lord NegaDuck…"
He grumbled, yawning, sleep formed in the corner of the malicious duck's eyes. Taking off his fedora to scratch at his head sleepily, NegaDuck gruffly asked, "What took so long, kid?"
"I'm sorry, Lord NegaDuck. The oven was giving me fits again." She crossed her fingers behind her back. "I hope you like what I made for you."
NegaDuck narrowed his eyes at her cheerfulness. "Cut that out and just give over the grub."
Nodding the little girl returned to her usual state of faux unhappiness, and stepped back to the dinner tray. Picking it up Gosalyn moved carefully towards her father, placing it within his grasp. Watching him scowl at the contents of the meal as she knew he would, "This looks like crap."
But she knew that wasn't what he meant at all.