Darkwing Duck: The Webfoot Chronicles II

By Rebecca Littlehales

Act I

     Beth Webfoot had left the hardware store a little after 7:30 p.m., later than she'd planned. She was in a hurry, afraid of being late, of missing Drake (which would really hurt since she'd realized that she loved him), and especially of no longer even being needed as a babysitter. She had started off in a pretty good mood-- after all, for once she'd been able to stand up to Henny Chickstein. Well, sort of. Beth hoped fervently that she hadn't hurt Henny's feelings. But then again, what with all the times Henny had hurt Beth... Since she had had time to think, Beth's mood had deteriorated along the long walk to the Mallard residence.
     "I have gotta get me a car," she said to herself. "I mean, get myself a car. Or rather, get a car for myself. Although who else would I get a car for? And why did I use such bad grammer? That's completely unlike me. I wonder what Drake would say if he had heard me." She slowed down a little, to let reality sink in. "He wouldn't care. He hates me. He told me himself that he doesn't like me... Well, not outright, but he sure acted like it. I don't know why he hired me to babysit Gosalyn. I'm such a loser! I'm going to be lonely the rest of my life! I just wanna be loved, is that so wrong?" she shouted to the night air, face upturned. The night had no response-- for her or the other anguished citizen of St. Canard that evening.
     "Well?? Is it wrong, Spike?" said Bushroot to his constant companion, a large venus flytrap. "I mean, even a mutant plant-duck needs love! But each time I try to talk to the people of the city, they scream and run away! It's ridiculous!
     "Well, fine then, Spike! If they won't love me, I won't love them! The people of St. Canard can just go and rot for all I care!" he exclaimed, rising to peer out at the countryside. "And they will. Oh, yes, I think they will..." he said to himself softly. The plan would go into effect shortly, and Bushroot was anticipating some great results.

     "You?! What are you doing here?" asked Drake, puzzled, when he answered the door.
      "I'm here to babysit for Gosalyn," said Beth. It occured to her that maybe he'd forgotten who she was. That happened surprisingly often. "I'm Beth Webfoot, we met a few days ago at the hardware store. You hired me to--" she said, trying to explain herself, but Drake cut her off.
      "I know who you are! But I wasn't expecting you to come tonight. I mean, you were here when Gos was kidnapped and we haven't contacted you since-- How did you know she was rescued?" he asked her, giving her a look that she had also seen surprisingly frequently: The "And-you-call-yourself-a-genius?" look.
      "Well, it's been all over the news!" she said. Her hands were clasped in front of her chest, and she was squeezing them together gently to hide her nervousness.
      Drake looked away from her for a moment. "It has? Really? Rats, I would have had Launchpad tape it for me! Oh, well, since you're here you might as well come in and do your job," he said. As soon as his back was turned, Beth whispered "yes!" and attempted to highfive herself, which, although it was an interesting concept, came out a little mangled.
      "Hey, Gos?" Drake shouted up the stairs.
      "Yeah, Dad?" yelled Gosalyn, out of sight but easily audible.
      "Change of plans, you won't be coming... um, bowling with me tonight after all!" he said. He turned to Beth and politely said, "Have a seat."
      At that moment, Gosalyn came barreling down the stairs wearing a hockey mask. "What?! But... but you said I could!" she said angrily.
      "Yes, I know, Gos, but-- DON'T SIT THERE!!" he shouted at Beth as she started to have a seat in the chair that hid Darkwing's secret passageway to his tower. She froze, looking startled.
      "I'm sorry- I- I thought you offered me a seat, I--" she stammered unevenly.
      "Well, yeah, but..." Drake trailed off, trying to think of a good reason to give her. "That chair's not- er- It's not safe." He noticed Beth's facial expression- She looked crushed, almost on the verge of tears. A twinge of guilt struck him. "Uh... Sorry I yelled. It was for your own good, okay?"
      "Not... Not safe?" she asked.
      Great. Now he had to come up with a reason. Before he could stutter his way through a comment, however, Gosalyn spoke up. "It's got a big spring that pokes you in the butt every time you sit on it. Dad's afraid that it'll rip through the seat cushion if anyone sits in that chair. He would have told you last time but he didn't have a chance."
      "Right," said Drake, "that's exactly right."
      The look of absolute fear that had covered Beth's face started to clear, and she managed a smile. "Oh, that's okay. I'm the one who should be sorry, see, because I should have asked--"
      Drake suddenly realized that she had every intention of explaining everything that had just happened in great detail. He groaned inwardly- she was one of those shy people who could talk your head off if you gave them the chance. He interrupted her, saying, "That's fine, Ms. Webfoot. Why don't you just sit on the couch, and Launchpad and I will be leaving in a second. Can you give me a second to continue with my daughter here?" he asked.
      "Oh." She now seemed to feel sorry, and started to apologize again. "I'm sorry, Mr. Mallard, I--"
      "It's fine, don't even think about it. Now, I was talking to you, Gosalyn," he said, catching her by the arm as she started to sneak away. "You were only going to come with me out of convenience, because I don't like leaving you here alone. Especially not after that little incident with the Italian sausage in the microwave!"
      "Come on, Dad, you know that was an honest mistake!"
      "I know that it took days to clean the kitchen up entirely! Now that Ms. Webfoot's shown up you can just stay here, and she'll keep you out of trouble."
      "Nnnnnnoooooooo! I never get any excitement!" she whined at him.
      "Gos, you're staying home! End of story!" he said, in the tone that was father-speak for "end of story". In the time since adopting Gosalyn, he'd become quite adept at saying things twice while only speaking them once.
      "Fine..." she sighed, conveying the "It's anything but fine... now I feel unwanted" vibe, which he chose to ignore.
      "Say, where's Launchpad?" he said, just as his sidekick came in from the kitchen with two chocolate bars and a slice of sausage pizza stuffed into his mouth.
      "Mmho, Dhhhe Mufwew, I mufly do--" He stopped trying to speak as his eyes landed on Beth. Time stood still, and he realized that he'd even forgotten how lovely she was since the last time he'd seen her.
      "What'd you say?" said Drake, but Launchpad was beyond speaking.
      "Oh, hi, Launchpad!" said Beth, giving him a smile that sent his heart soaring. Launchpad tried to swallow and couldn't, and so turned around and discreetly spit out all of the food.
      "Ew, gross!" said Gosalyn, lifting her hockey mask to grimace.
      "Hi, Beth! Nice to see you again," he said casually. "So, whatcha been doin'?"
      "Well, not much in the past 24 hours... Basically I went home, slept, went to work, and now I'm here," she said. "And you?"
      "Aw, you know, the usual." Gosalyn, who was sulking, had put the hockey mask back down over her face. Launchpad caught the movement out of the corner of his eye, and turned his head slightly to see what it was. The first glance that he caught of Gosalyn startled him, and the image of a certain cinematic mass-murderer came to mind momentarily before he realized that it was her. In the second that he was confused, he jumped, and of course, Beth noticed.
      "What's wrong?" she asked curiously.
      "Oh, ah, nothin'," he answered, embarrassed.
      "Again, Launchpad?" said Drake. "Does that mask really make you that nervous?"
      "Well, no," said Launchpad, really wishing that Drake wouldn't mention this now. "It just kinda took me by surprise."
      Drake didn't take the hint. "Gosalyn-- You're going to have to stop wearing that hockey mask around Launchpad." Gosalyn took the mask off. Her facial expression indicated that she felt like this was the icing on the cake. Drake turned to Beth and explained in what he thought was a gentle way. "See, Gosalyn forced Launchpad to watch a part of a movie that had a murderer who wore a hockey mask, and I guess now the mask scares him." Launchpad suddenly thought he might die of embarrassment. With anyone else, this wouldn't matter, but this was Beth. It was different.
      "Oh, that's too bad. I once had an aunt who was terrified of carrots..." said Beth sympathetically.
      "Can we go now, DW?" asked Launchpad, too embarrassed to stick around.
      "Of course we... can..." Drake trailed off as he realized that there was no way for them to leave without giving away his secret identity as long as Beth was in the room. "Give your old man a hug, Gos," he said as he walked over to her and embraced her warmly. She took it with her arms crossed, scowling.
      While his head was on her shoulder, Drake whispered to her, "Plan 23."
      "Ohhhh-- But Dad--" she started to protest.
      "No buts! I need your help here!" he hissed.
      "Fine," she conceded. "But you're gonna owe me big for this one. Beth," she said out loud in a totally different tone of voice, "um, I need some help with my homework. Could you give me a hand?"
      "Well, sure! I did... um, pretty well in school. What subject?"
      "Math," said Gosalyn, who was no rocket scientist, but was able to figure out fractions on her own. However, for the sake of her father's secret identity...
      "Oh, math's great! I did my best work in math-- I remember when I was your age... heh, and I thought quantum physics was hard until I tried it..." she said, showing off unintentionally. She caught herself at it and stopped. "Uhhh... I mean... so, where is it?"
      "It's... in the kitchen," said Gosalyn, grabbing her by the arm and leading her to the kitchen door.
      "Well, bye, Launchpad! Goodbye, Mr. Mallard..." she said, gazing at him longingly as she left the room.
      "Yeah, right... Well, LP, now that that's taken care of-- Let's... get... dangerous!" said Drake, leaping to the chair and preparing to hit the switch. Launchpad walked over slowly, shuffling his feet. "What's wrong, buddy? Hey, don't tell me you have a sort of a crush on this woman?"
      Launchpad sighed heavily. "I'd rather not talk about it just now, DW," he said.
      Suddenly, Gosalyn burst into the room, ran up to him, and plopped up onto his lap. "Dad, before you leave, I just wanted to remind you that you're paying Beth twenty dollars a night!"
      "If you're so set against being babysat, why does it matter so much to you what I give her?" said Drake, impatiently waiting for her to get off of his lap.
      "Well, if I have to stay here, why shouldn't you have to pay through your nose?" asked Gosalyn fiercely. "Besides, I bet you were thinking of trying to stiff her on her pay, just 'cause you think she'd let you! Don't even try it!"
      "Fine, fine!" said Drake. "Just go distract her so that Launchpad and I can get out of here without her noticing!" He picked her up and set her on the floor.
      "Hey, Gosalyn? I see what you've been doing wrong-- this is multiplication, not subtraction," called Beth from the other room.
      "Um...could you explain the difference to me?" Gosalyn called back with a shudder. "You really owe me for this," she said to Drake, and turned on her heel back towards the kitchen.
      "That's my little girl," said Drake, and he hit the switch.

     "Gosalyn, correct me if I'm wrong here, but didn't Mr. Mallard say that you weren't suppose to play with sports equipment in the house?" said Beth warily, watching Gosalyn dart around the room carrying a football, "passing" it to the other side of the room.
      "Um... No," said Gosalyn.
      "Well-- look, just be careful, okay? The last thing we want is for your father to get home and find out that something got--" She was interrupted by a loud crash. "Broken," she finished dully as Gosalyn froze, wide-eyed.
      Meanwhile, on the other side of the city, Darkwing had cornered a bulky young man carrying a football himself. This football, however, was different from other footballs: It contained nearly a million dollars in stolen bank money. Despite Darkwing's attempts at intimidation, the jock seemed about ready to tackle him.
      "I wouldn't recommend it, my athletic friend," said Darkwing, seeing the criminal's plans, "I'm a master of Quack Fu!" This didn't daunt the man, who charged anyway. Darkwing was caught amidst the sound of snapping and breaking objects.
      "So I said to your father that I was very sorry, but we didn't have the bolt he needed," said Beth as she picked up the pieces of the mirror that Gosalyn had accidentally broken.
      "Uh-huh... That's fascinating," said Gosalyn, bored nearly to tears. She was, however, somewhat intrigued by the fact that Beth apparently had quite a thing for her father. If it weren't for Morgana McCawber, Gosalyn would have been more than happy to set them up. But she liked Morgana, and she knew her father did too-- something had to be done for Beth, but Gosalyn didn't have the heart to tell her the truth.
      "Yeah, well, my life isn't exactly exciting or anything, but I get by..." said Beth. She liked Gosalyn quite a lot-- she reminded her of Drake. It was uncanny that a girl who was adopted should come out quite so like her foster father. "Well, now that that's done... Hey, who are you calling?" she said, noticing that Gosalyn was on the telephone.
      "Shhhh," said Gosalyn. "Hello? This is the Quackenflisher Plastics Company-- we're just calling to make a routine check up. Is your refrigerator running?" she said into the phone.
      "Oh, Gosalyn--" said Beth, before she was silenced by the girl.
      Really? Then you better hurry up and catch it!" she said, and hung up, chuckling. "A little hackneyed, but still effective... Oh, come on, Beth! There's nothing wrong with a little prank call!" she said, catching her babysitter's horrified expression.
      "Gos, when you call someone you enter into a sacred trust! You're making them get up and answer the phone-- you're interrupting their daily lives-- you're--" Once again, Beth herself was interrupted, this time by the telephone.
      "You get it," said Gosalyn. "You're the babysitter."
      "Oh... right... well, okay. Hello?" she said, as she answered the phone.
      The voice on the other end was deep, masculine, and sounded angry. "What were you tryin' to pull with that refrigerator gag?"
      Meanwhile, Darkwing had successfully turned in the football maniac to the police and was now scouring the city for other crimes in progress.
      "Can we stop for a snack, DW? I'm famished!" said Launchpad, next to him in the Ratcatcher.
      "What happened to all that junk you had before we left?" said Darkwing impatiently.
      "I had to spit most of it out!" said Launchpad, his shoulders raised in defense. "Besides... that was more than two hours ago!"
      "Fine," said Darkwing, pulling over at a pizza parlor. "Get something here. But hurry!" he said as Launchpad jumped out of the 'cycle.
      As he waited for his partner to come out of the restaurant, Darkwing tapped his fingers in a little rhythm on the dashboard of the Ratcatcher. The longer he waited, the more he got into the beat he was creating. He started using both hands, playing the dashboard almost like it was a bongo. He was starting to enjoy it, and was oblivious to the attitudes of the other customers sitting in their cars. "Hey, could you knock that off?" yelled someone from way down the parking lot.
      "Who do you think you are?" Darkwing yelled back, displeased at the man's attitude.
      "I'm someone who actually has rhythm!" shouted the man from along the row of cars.
      "Yeah? Well, I guess you need it to make up for your face!" yelled Darkwing, a bit peeved.
      "Huh? Why, you--!" shouted the man, and started on his way towards Darkwing. Darkwing himself was more than prepared for a fight, until he spied the badge that the man was wearing and recognized him as the chief of police.
      "Ut-oh," said Darkwing. "Far be it from me to run from conflict, but..." he said. He revved up the motor to the Ratcatcher and, grabbing Launchpad as he came out the door of the restaurant, he sped off into the night.
      "Well... You smell like a baboon! ...Yeah, that's what I should have said," mused the Police Chief out loud, watching the motorcycle drive away. It never occured to him to actually chase Darkwing, and in fact, he was about to go and sit in his cruiser for a little bit longer when he felt a tap on his shoulder. Turning, he saw a baboon standing behind him, its arms crossed.
      "He smells like a what?!" said the baboon tensely.
      Gosalyn had allowed herself to be put to bed at about 10:30, and Beth had spent much of the rest of the time on the couch, dozing. At midnight the alarm on her watch went off, and she sat bolt upright, startled out of her catnap. Remembering where she was, she groped for her glasses and set about waking herself up the rest of the way.
      She wasn't anxious to leave Gosalyn here on her own, but Drake had said he'd be home in a little while. She felt compelled to check one more time and make sure that everything was okay before she left.
      Going to the stairs, she called up, "IT'S TWELVE O'CLOCK!"
      Gosalyn, who actually was just starting to fall asleep, said irritably, "Gee, thanks, Beth."
      "Just making sure you're okay," said Beth, now in the upstairs hallway just outside Gosalyn's room.
      "I'm fine, Beth," said Gosalyn.
      "Well... I'm leaving now... Goodnight," said Beth as she went back downstairs.
      "Goodnight, Beth," said Gosalyn, figuring out exactly how much her father would owe her after this night.
      Beth was halfway out the door and happily looking forward to getting home when she stopped short. "Oh, I can't believe I forgot..." she said as she remembered that she'd never gotten around to finishing the weekly inventory before coming here. When Henny found out that Beth had forgotten to do inventory, she'd pluck her fanny feathers for sure. She was a little dismayed to think that, for the time being at least, there was no longer a warm bed in sight.
      Along the long, lonely walk to the hardware store, Beth noticed that there were quite a lot of plants in bloom for such a late time in the season. When she arrived at the store, she was surprised to see a small bunch of plants gathered around the sidewalk. "Hello there," she said, bending down towards them. "I don't remember seeing you there before." They didn't look like very odd plants, although she couldn't quite pinpoint their type. "I guess you must be weeds-- I know Henny wouldn't do gardening if her life depended on it! Oh, well," she said with a sigh as she straightened up, "weeds or no weeds, you're welcome here. I'll bring you some water or something tomorrow when I come in, kay?"
      They were pretty weeds, she thought to herself as she went inside. She spent the better part of an hour finishing the inventory, thinking about Drake the entire time, and when she was done she put her head down on the counter to rest and was out like a light.
      Meanwhile, outside, the plants continued to grow at an alarming rate....

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