Goldie's 3 Wishes

Chapter 10

Donald stepped into Scrooge's office. His uncle was flipping through books. Donald came and stood next to him by the desk. Scrooge turned several more pages of the different books scattered on his desk. Donald's eyes scanned over the papers. "What are you doing?" Donald asked.

Without looking up, Scrooge said, "Looking for a way to get Louie's memories back." Donald took a book and examined the image of a lamp. The gold handle spiraled and came to connect to the body of the lamp. The well crafted spout came out from the other side. Different shapes decorated the lid.

Scrooge thought aloud. "I was thinking if we could get that lamp, we could wish for Louie's memories ourselves," he said.

Donald looked at the paragraph written in the book he had. He shook his head. "You can't. This one says that when two wishes go against each other, whichever one was made first will take effect. So unless Goldie wishes to reverse her wish, Louie will stay like how he is," he frowned.

Scrooge pushed himself up from his desk. "Gah! Those wretched wishes!" he let out. Donald took a step back. "Come on, let's go save Goldie," Scrooge said, grabbing his top hat. He put it on his head and got his cane too. Donald put the book back on the desk and went after his uncle. He stopped when he felt a buzzing in his pocket. He fumbled around for his phone a minute and then looked at the screen. His eyes widened when he read the text.

"Actually, uncle Scrooge, we might have to get the kids too," he said, handing Scrooge the phone. Before Scrooge could say anything, Donald was out the door. Scrooge read the text.

We're at Glomgold's house getting Goldie to give Louie back his memories! 3 -Webby

Scrooge put the phone in his red coat pocket and went after Donald. "Wait for me, Donald!" he called. He stepped down the stairs quickly. Donald turned to face him when he reached the front door.

"If they die, I'll kill them!" Donald shouted.

Louie hopped from foot to foot trying to dodge lasers. "Ahhhhhhhhhh!" he cried. The weaponry that came out of the fortress walls was relentless. Dewey was fighting off a buzz saw, narrowly avoiding getting chopped into tiny pieces. Arrows kept shooting at Huey, leaving a few holes in his cap. Webby continuously deflected rockets with her foot, kicking them in other directions. All four kids were starting to get tired and were running out of breath.

"We do this every day!?" Louie questioned, ducking underneath a shot.

Dewey nodded. "Pretty much," he shrugged. He slid to the side as the saw came for him.

"I can't believe I was okay with this," Louie frowned.

"Ha, that's funny. You didn't like it even when you were normal. You'd cry and complain and-"

"Not helping Dewey!" Huey cut in. Louie balled his hands into fists, getting frustrated with his near death experience. Just then, a laser shot at his tail feathers. He yelped in pain and quickly tried to put out a small fire that had started on his hoodie. He frantically blew on it, patting it down with his hand. When the flames were out, his hoodie and tail were both scorched with ashy marks. He huffed.

"Who normally gets us out of these things?" he said.

He stopped dodging arrows to answer, even though they were still firing at him. He spoke with hand movements too. "Well... you do. You're the sharp one, so you see all the angles and figure out a plan." He yelped as an arrow almost grazed him. He jumped just in time, his eyes wide.

Louie glanced around. He was the sharp one. He had this. Even if it was somewhere deep down inside him, he could still do it. He just had to dig deep. Taking in a breath, Louie looked at what they had to work with. Not much and anything he did see, the dots wouldn't connect in his brain. He just couldn't put the pieces together.