#muddlefoots

“I certainly wish your first molting could’ve happened under more ideal circumstances,” my mother said, brushing me gently as I watched the loose feathers fall into the tub and float in the warm, soothing water.

“I wish I never molted. then the kids wouldn’t have been so mean to me,” I sniffed.

My mother scratched my head gently. “Drakey, molting is a part of life and it happens when it happens. Things may not go your way and the day may seem dark, but do you know what?”

“What, Mommy?”

“After you’ve faced the hardship and cleaned up the mess that was made, you are left…well, plucked and primed for what’s ahead in life.”

“That little phrase captivated me. Not only did it sound nice rolling off the tongue, but I would later find it to be undoubtedly true,” Drake related as he and Gosalyn walked down the stairs once again, “After a good brushing, the rest of my old feathers came out without much fuss. I even preferred my new gleaming white feathers to the old ones I knew! I still wasn’t sure about the stripes but that’s neither here nor there.”

The two ducks sat once again at the couch and Drake continued, “With anything you face in life whether it’s a dastardly villain or a simple book report, you can make it through whatever hardship comes your way. Because once you do, you’re plucked and primed for whatever may come next.”

At that moment, he had a very bright idea. “So whaddaya say, sport? Ready to get plucked and primed?” Drake put on a toothy grin, hoping Gosalyn wouldn’t be able to catch on to his ulterior motive, but the ever-sharp duckling could see right through him.

“Does this mean what I think it means?” she said, casting a suspicious look in his direction.

Yep, she totally knew. And Drake didn’t care.

He snatched her up without another word, his lightning fast reflexes coming in very handy, and slung her over his shoulder like a bag of wheat.

“Dad!” she squeaked, and immediately began to tickle him. She got him in the right spot too, for he was soon squirming and wobbling around the living room, giggling like a circus clown.

“Gosalyn, st-haha-st-stop that!” he protested through hearty laughs. He could feel Gosalyn slipping off his shoulder, and her weight brought the two laughing ducks crashing into a bookshelf. Books tumbled onto Drake, and Gosalyn quickly jumped to her feet and zipped away, stopping in the living room’s archway.

“Come on, Dad,” she taunted, “you and I both know I haven’t taken a bath willingly this past year. Wouldn’t want to break a perfect record.” With that remark, she was off like a shot toward her room.

Drake jumped up quickly, throwing fallen books to the side. “Perhaps Darkwing Duck has something to say about that, little missy!” he called out, and dashed away to chase after his daughter.

She was getting that bath. It was not a choice.

 And she finally did get in the bath. After being chased around the entire house twice.

Despite her protests, Drake lathered her up in his special molting soap, and began to brush at her coat diligently. She wouldn’t say so, but the warm water combined with whatever was in that soap was incredibly soothing on her itchy skin.

She hoped she would NEVER get into a habit of enjoying baths, or Drake wouldn’t let her hear the end of it.

The downy feathers still clinging to her were coming out easily thanks to his special formula, and afterwards, she felt much better, having shed the excess weight.

Looking in the mirror, towel wrapped around her, she admired her new feather coat. They were the same sandy yellow as her downy coat but had a different texture about them. They were stiffer and stronger than the dryer lint she once wore, and the whole coat just screamed “big kid”. The mature feathers gleamed in the bathroom light and Gosalyn took great delight in posing in front of the mirror while Drake looked on, a smirk on his beak and some bathwater on his vest. There was her spirit shining through once again.

As she dried off, Drake asked her how she wanted the rest of the day to go. It was still her special day, after all.

She sighed. Part of her still wanted to go to all the places they planned, and the other part of her was just unsure. “Well, what do you usually do on molting day?” she asked her dad.

“Well, after a particularly…uncomfortable situation with the Liquidator, I’ve made it a point to stay home whenever I molt. But it’s your choice.”

Drake heart began to melt as Gosalyn said meekly, “We can stay home if you want, Dad.”

Darn it if she wasn’t the greatest daughter a duck could ask for.

He scooped her up and kissed her on the forehead. “For you, Gosalyn, anything.”

Despite not visiting any of the places Drake had planned for, he and his daughter had a very memorable day indeed. They competed fiercely in all their favorite board games, with Gosalyn winning most of them, even Trivial Trivia.

Drake made a mental note to ask how in the world she knew Swahili.

The Muddlefoots dropped by to invite them over for lunch. For his daughter, Drake decided to grin and bear it, despite his deep hatred for his airheaded neighbors. Gosalyn enjoyed telling Honker about her molting and the two played football in the backyard while Herb regaled Drake about his latest Quackerware exploits. The stories were incredibly boring, but the burger he munched helped him tolerate it. It tasted pretty good too, but Herb wouldn’t be hearing it from Drake.

When Launchpad arrived home from his day in Duckburg, he found a grilled cheese and tomato soup dinner waiting. When he asked if Drake was molting again, he was amazed to learn about Gosalyn’s molting and absolutely gushed over her new feathers. As they ate, he relayed the story of his own first molting and Gosalyn laughed at the crazy time had by him. After dinner, they rented her favorite movies and watched them late into the night, with Launchpad shielding himself from the scarier parts, Gosalyn hooting and hollering for the main characters’ success, and Drake wincing at the gorier parts of the film (should she even be watching those?).

As she walked into her room dressed in her nightshirt, she was surprised to find her sheets removed from her bed. Something was up, but she didn’t need to play detective for long as Drake walked in with a present. He tossed it to Gosalyn, who immediately took to opening it with abandon, because present.

“Keen gear…” she breathed, marveling at the cool-looking bedsheets she had been given. They were in her favorite color, the comforter had Death Scooter, her favorite comic superhero on it, and, best of all, the set was lacking a label that said, “For baby/downy feathers”.

She hugged her dad tight, squeezing him around his neck. “Thanks, Dad.”

He returned the hug and kissed her cheek. “You’re welcome, Gos.”

The day had not turned out like either of them had expected, but it was still a grand success in Drake’s eyes. The battle with Taurus Bulba one year ago left him battered, bruised, and scarred. But he realized today that meeting Gosalyn and saving her had left him plucked and primed once again.

Plucked and primed to be a father.

And there was no other daughter he would rather raise than that spunky, spirited duckling in his lap right now.

“I love you, Gosalyn.”

“Love you too, Dad.”

Drake awoke the next morning with the blaring of his alarm clock. He silenced it quickly with a great whack and sat up in bed with a grand yawn. He immediately felt an itching on his scalp, and reached out to scratch instinctively, still half asleep. He took notice of the feathers that fell on his sheets as he itched the feeling away.

Wait, what?

He couldn’t be. Not today. It was too perfect.

He snatched up the feathers to investigate them further. They were sandy yellow and fuzzy to the touch. The pieces began to click in his mind as he faintly heard giggles outside his bedroom door.

“Very funny, Gosalyn,” he called out. Gosalyn burst into full-on laughing at her little prank and ran downstairs to await her dad.