Habits

The Town Where Everyone Was Nice

We hiked through the woods, Uncle Scrooge leading us at the front and Uncle Donald at the rear. Instead of our normal, solo expeditions, we were with a tour group. A family of pigs who insisted on taking pictures of everything.

We finally entered a clearing, coming upon our destination; A lively town in Brazil. They were celebrating the feast of the flower, an annual festival that celebrates the bloom of a giant flower. It's actually an interesting cultural celebration. I was pretty grateful to be apart of it this year, along with my family.

"Oh boy! I can't wait to see my pals!" Uncle Donald cheered, now walking alongside a miserly Scrooge.

Huey stopped and turned to him, so Louie and I stopped as well.

"Sorry, who are these friends of yours?" Louie asked.

"And why have we never heard of them? And why did you all stop speaking? And-" Huey was interrupted by Louie before he could go off on a tangent.

"Please, not everything is a dark, family secret!" Louie exasperated.

"Kids," Uncle Donald interrupted, "I've got a dark, family secret."

I almost snickered at that.

"I.." Uncle Donald began.

"Yeah?" We asked in unison.

"...Was one of the Three Caballeros," Uncle Donald finished.

The kids paused, before congratulating him as if they knew what the Three Caballeros was.

That name was familiar, though. ¿Los trés caballeros? The three cowboys? The three gentlemen? Who knows?

"The Three Caballeros," Scrooge grumped, "Donald's old college band. They practiced their polyphonic pandemonium in my garage for hours on end!"

Donald glared at him. Scrooge glared back.

"Garage," I corrected. Scrooge gave me a look. I shrugged.

"Ah! The next time you complain about bagpipes, imagine trying to sleep while your uncle saws away on an accordion!"

Huey and Louie shared a look.

"I was so awesome," Uncle Donald reminisced, putting sunscreen on his beak. I almost laughed.

"Och, Yer fine as is! A family man. A boat owner! You're more impressive than those warbling wastrels are!" Scrooge assured, albeit grumpily.

Before I could ponder what on earth a wastrel was, a plane flew overhead.

Someone jumped out of the plane, before releasing their parachute. This revealed a green male parrot. He led out a half-gritar, I'd call it, before picking up his umbrella and... playing it? It sounded like a weird clarinet.

I recognized him. From some old photos, and from old memories. If only I could remember a name.

Just then, we heard someone strum a guitar. It was a... chicken? Rooster? Same thing. His eye flashed, before he pulled off a serape, and began riffing on his guitar. Which was extremely impressive. He let out a mini-gritar as well.

He was familiar as well. I saw a flash of a memory. Holding a too-big guitar. Wearing an oversized sombrero.

Him and the Parrot met in the middle of the entrance of the town. It was as if there were fireworks sparking. They posed.

The kids watched in awe, Uncle Donald in amusement.

Uncle Scrooge leaned over to Donald. "Och, they are much more impressive than you," he teased. I elbowed him.