Gladstone sighed as he leaned against the railing of his brand-new yacht, peering out at the city blanketed in velvety swaths of dark clouds and blinking lights of the buildings. For the first time in... well, he couldn't recall, he was finally out of the city and back onto his plan for traveling the world like he'd originally planned.
The plane ticket that had stayed in the pocket of his jacket was dated back seven years, but Gladstone decided he wouldn't think of that. It made his stomach hurt, and he was Gladstone Gander! He didn't have stomach aches, or bad luck. Only good things came his way. Like buying a cruise, for twenty dollars! And perfect curls that always did what he wanted them to, and an immaculate singing voice. Plus the charm he had, worked like no other. All in all? Gladstone Gander was a lucky guy. He didn't have room in his life for stuff like casinos with an ever-revolving exit door that he never could find or scars or sleepless nights.
He ran a hand through his curls and took a deep breath of the midnight, salty air. Dark water lapped against the side of the boat and for a split second, Gladstone wondered how the thing that looked like it was made of solid gold was even floating.
"Eh. Luck of the Gander, I guess," he shrugged and grinned out back at the city. "Well, sayonara, Macaw! This lucky goose's cards have been dealt and he's off the table!"
Gladstone lifted up a cup of water with a trembling hand in a toast and laughed before taking a sip and sat it back down.
'Goodnight, Macaw,' he mentally shouted, 'and may we never cross paths again!'
