"Oh," the mallard pouted. He moped the few feet from his room to the area his mother generously called the "breakfast nook." In truth, it wasn't much nook or breakfast, let alone a combination of the two. The far end of the trailer constituted a leaking refrigerator that was already considered ancient back when Fenton hatched and an overflowing trash can swarming with flies.

And a sink full of dishes. That's what that smell was. Or maybe it was the trash can. Standing between the two, it was difficult to discern one from the other.

At least in this household, there was no father to pitch them around. There hadn't been for years.

"Well, you're certainly in a mood today, Fenton."

"And why shouldn't I be? First, my boss tells me to go off and rescue this girl who, I guess, had a crush on me. I mean, not that there's anything wrong with that! She's -- well --" He hesitated. M'ma had no idea how young she was. Not that it mattered. "She's beautiful." Fenton sniffed at the jar of peanut butter he had just excavated from the back of the refrigerator. Inside, the contents had turned green, and sported a fine coating of white fuzz. "Yuck!" How on earth did something with so much preservative manage to grow mold within the confines of the refrigerator? It had probably malfunctioned somewhere along the way and M'ma was too lazy to bother mentioning it to him, let alone getting a repairman who would inevitably have been paid with Fenton's hard-earned money.

"Yuck?" M'Ma replied. At least it indicated she was vaguely paying attention to him.

"Never mind. Do we have anything even remotely edible? If the peanut butter looks like slime, I don't think you're gonna like the bread that's in here!" In all likelihood, it had been sitting around since last Christmas.

"Get me some chili, then. Commercials are almost over. Just open the can and stick a spoon in it. I'll eat it cold."

He grimaced. "Okay. . ." Fenton mumbled before finishing up his mother's midday meal with a side dish of his own story. "I'm supposed to go rescue this girl from the hands of some of the most notorious villains in St. Canard. Real nasty people, M'ma! I mean, they make the Beagle Boys look like the Junior Woodchucks."

go back | return to table of contents | continue