Chapter Eight

            It had been a week of the same routine for young Donald.  During the seven days of intense physical preparation, he was beginning to understand how to control the newly christened Feline Furry and master the standard fighting techniques the old cat bestowed upon him.

            Because of young Don’s intense physical labor, he had been routinely oversleeping until the unsatisfactory time of 8:05 am.  To put it bluntly, mother did not believe in “better late than never.”

            “DONALD!” yelled the young man’s mother as she dead sprinted into his room, “Better late than never is a term used by COMMUNISTS!  Hard working Americans always get out of bed before 8:05, not on 8:05!  Which one are you, Donald!?”

            “My, oh my, mother,” said Don smiling as his nightly slumber came to a halt.  Our hero began to stretch to prepare his body for the grueling day that lay ahead.

            “P.U. DONALD!! I CAN SMELL YOU ALL THE WAY FROM OUTSIDE!  WHAT’S WITH YOU, YOU HAVEN”T BATHED IN ABOUT A WEEK!"

            “Oh my,” thought Don, “How can I get out of this sticky situation?”  “Uh, well, you see mother…” he started, “the gang and I have been partaking in a challenge to see which of us three young gentlemen could survive the longest without bathing.”

            Now, you may be thinking, “Nice one, Don!”  But truth be told, it would be easier for a man to walk around in public shaking his hips than for mother to believe a tale such as that.  It was the 1940s after all.

            “IF THAT WAS THE TRUTH, YOU WOULD BE EATING PIZZA!”  his mother roared as she furiously exited his room.

            “These morning lectures are becoming as predictable as Miss SaurAppel’s oh-so-predictable school banters.”  Don then scampered into the kitchen, where he began fixing a breakfast that consisted of cheery eggs and a side of joyful bacon.  Just as Don was about to take his first bite of the bacon, his mother’s cry was heard throughout the house yet again.

            “DON! WHY DON’T YOU COME TAKE A PEEK AT THIS CORN!?  THE WAY THE WIND IS BLOWING AT THE EARS OF CORN REALLY IS QUITE MAJESTIC TODAY!”

            “No thanks mother, this joyful bacon is much too scrumptious.”

            “WHAT!?” his mother roared from the outdoors.

            “No thanks mother, this joyful bacon is much too scrumptious.”

            “WHAT DONALD!?  I CAN’T HEAR YOU!”

            “NO THANKS MOTHER, THIS JOYFUL BACON IS MUCH TOO SCRUMPTIOUS!” Don retorted quite angrily.  It was never appropriate for a gentleman to raise his voice, at least not during the breakfast hour.

            “WHAT DONALD!?  I’VE FALLEN DOWN DON; IT’S HARD TO HEAR YOU FROM ALL THE WAY DOWN HERE! WELL, DON’T JUST SIT THERE IDLY, WHAT’S TAKING YOU SO LONG!?”

            Although the cheery eggs on his plate were tempting, they would be awaiting his return after he had helped his mother.  Don knew what he had to do.  He quickly scampered to the door, and as soon as he reached the porch a burning sensation took over his body.  Not like an “icy hot” sensation, but more like fire touching his skin.  There, before the young man stood his mother, gleefully laughing as she held the house hose in Don’s direction, sending a jet stream of water in his direction.

            “HAHAHA, OUT WITH THE SMELLY DON AND IN WITH THE SQUEAKY CLEAN DON!”

          “AAAAAAUUUUUUUUUUUUUGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” Donald screamed, as he rubbed his hands over his face and then across his body.  The water that ripped at his skin hurt him in a way that was a million times worse than the last time he yelled this much when the master black cat left him for dead.  Rather than feeling a dagger cut into his skin, this felt as though a barrel of steaming acid was eating away his youthful little flesh.  But most importantly, what would Bugs’ mother think of him now when she took a glance in his direction?  Surely, no window would be safe when that occasion came.

            As Donald laid there in agonizing pain, his mom reassured him with the encouraging message of, “NOW THAT’LL TEACH YOU DON!”  She then set the hose down and walked indoors, leaving a defeated Don lying helplessly on the ground.  “THESE CHEERY EGGS SURE LOOK TASTY!”

            Don began to hiss as he rolled around in pain on the ground.  The consequences to having these brutal cat-like powers were far worse than he could have ever imagined.  How much more could a young gentleman in his position handle?  “Ugh,” Don began to ponder, “It seems to me that the only possible way for this state of affair to get any worse would be if the gang happened to see me like this.”

            “Hey Deuce!  Look at Slider yelling and hissing over there on the ground, hahaha!"

            “Oh, careful Bugsy, there’s obviously clouds over his parade.  Give him a break.”

            The two young men then made their way over to the writhing Don, whose excruciating pain was now just beginning to let up a bit as the water began to evaporate.

            “What’s shaking you, Slider?" questioned Bugs.  “Did your mother push you down the stairs again?  Holy Toledo, that makes five times within the last month!”

            “Great Scott, there’s no beating the bush around this one.  I might just have to tell them the truth, about everything.”

Author's Note

Comments on repetition are against what the novel is establishing