Chapter Three

Chapter Three

A Chapter by FatalityWriter467

           After the night of extra long slumber, young Donald awoke quite frantically.  The young man opened his youthful little eyes and gazed upon his clock, and noticed he spent one too many minutes in a leisurely slumber.

          “GREAT SCOOOOT!  THIS YOUNG GENTLEMAN WILL NOT BE LATE FOR SCHOOL TODAY!”  Donald hissed in a way he’d never hissed before, similar to a mild growl, you know, like the one you might hear on a quiet summer’s Sunday at the local petting zoo.  In a rage never quite seen in the young man, the blankets were thrown aside and into the once magnificent alarm clock, causing it to fracture all over the floor. 

          “Oh my,” said Donald, rage continuing to build.  “Ooooh myyyyyy.”

          Just then, Donald’s gleeful mother scampered into the room.

          “Donald!  Does the word LATE mean anything to you!?”

          “Oh my, mother.”  Donald then thought to himself, “My rage.  It has never been quite like this.”

          Donald’s mother took another step, and screamed in a high pitch scream.  It really had never been quite like this before.  She then, as any good mother would, glanced down at her foot.  The foot that once held a woman’s loving, nurturing, kindness now held a large chunk of alarm clock.  Donald knew it was time to act.

          “WHAT HAVE I DONE!?” said Donald, with youthful little tears cascading down his face.  Donald then fell on the floor and wept.  He wept for his mother.  The mother that was there for him when he took his first gentlemanly steps.  The mother that knew 8:00 bedtime was just as important as a young man’s breathing itself.  The mother who provided his balanced diet. 

          “NO PIZZA!!”  His mother often-times yelled.  The mother whom he had just nonchalantly shoved aside last night as if she were a mother that did not tickle his fancy, which was not the case.  But then, coming to his senses, Donald heard his mother’s agonizing howl. Like the courageous characters his mother read him last night in his bedtime story, young Donald leapt across the room quite dangerously while reaching out his youthful little arm.  Then, he gently ripped out the shrapnel of alarm clock out of the foot while his other hand instantly covered his mother’s foot with a bandage.

          Donald then exclaimed, “Luckily, I listened to you and always carry a first-aid kit in my fanny pack.”

          Then he quickly remembered he hadn’t a tardy to spare for school.

          “Gotta scamper for school now.  I haven’t a tardy to spare, mother!”  Donald then, in a rush, stomped on his mother’s injured foot while escaping his house and was on his merry way to the schoolyard.

          As Donald ran he reminisced on his actions at the old house.  He remembered how fast he was to treat his mother’s wound while realizing he couldn’t quite remember grabbing the bandage.  He also remembered his rage.

          Donald contemplated, “My rage was never quite that hysterical.  What in tar nations is happening to this young man?  Hold on.  I wonder if this has to do with that furry young gentleman I met the previous day in the cornfield.  I bet it does.  Oh, I’ll bet it most certainly does.”

          Just then, Donald gazed upon his surroundings and noticed a statue he had never looked upon before.

          “Are my eyes deceiving me?”  Donald noticed a statue he never passed on the jolly way to school.

          “Do these powers allow me to see statues as well?”  But then the young man saw a sign explaining his home town was 20 miles east and realized he had just never ran so far in the past.  “By golly I passed my jolly little school.”  The young gentleman headed back east and ran towards his merry little school. 

          Upon the young man’s timely arrival at school, he knew a chat with the gang was well overdue.  Donald debated whether he should reveal the morning’s tale, as he wondered if the gang would consider him crazy.  But, crazy or not, Donald knew what he had to do.

          While encountering his gang Donald began his melancholy story.  “Why gentleman-”  but then the young man realized the bell was about to ring.

          “Slider, Deuce, the bell’s about to ring, we better scamper to class.”

          The bell rang.  Donald then quickly thought the bell never sounded quite this lovely before.  Luck was on the winning side today.



© 2012 FatalityWriter467


Author's Note

FatalityWriter467
Comments on repetition are against what the novel is establishing

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Added on November 15, 2012
Last Updated on November 15, 2012
Tags: cat, furry, donny, novel, donny cat, proper, supervillain, superhero, Nebraska, school


Author

FatalityWriter467
FatalityWriter467

Santa Destroy, CA



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I enjoy writing a quick story now and then including my own biography. more..

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