ToonZ - Family Business Chapter 8

Unexpected calls began exactly at two, just as they normally did. Scrooge was on the current call for nearly twenty minutes, going absolutely nowhere with the salesman. He had attempted to hang up twice, but he was constantly called back. He repeatedly said he was not interested, but the man continued on. So Scrooge attempted to play along until it got irritating; then, like most useless business deals, he would threaten them and then hang up—a threat from Scrooge McDuck was the scariest of threats.

With the recent toilet incident, he had to find some way to wind down, but phone calls took up his time immediately upon return to his office. He only had time to put on his red velvet coat with golden borders and a black belt—it was his favorite coat to wear yet he wore it sparingly nowadays, due to not wanting to tarnish it. He put on his grey spats, gave two cookies to Dudley, and then nearly forgot about the boy’s existence, as he was kept on the phone for minutes on end.

If there was one thing Scrooge hated, it was a salesman. And if there was one thing he hated about that, it was a persistent salesman. It nearly drove him to the point of retirement. Remaining in his chair, immobile, listening to this man chatter on and on about a top-of-the-line security system only made him want to go insane even more, so it was no surprise to him to find himself eventually getting to his feet and pacing the carpet in front of his desk like a caged feline.

“Ah don’t want any of the junk ya’ve got,” the quadzillionaire snapped for a final time, after nearly a half hour on the phone with the same salesman. “Ah’ve got the best security system in the country, and ah haven’t had it fail me yet! So why would Ah want you to give me your petty little robot security guard?” The salesman spoke at the other end, but his reasoning only made Scrooge fume even more. “AH’VE GOT GIZMODUCK, YA BUM,” he yelled into the receiver. “Nao leave me alone and don’t call back, or else Ah’ll call the police. Good day!” He turned towards his desk and slammed down the phone, nearly breaking the device at the same time. “No-good, rotten salesman,” he hissed. “If Ah wasn’t partially contracted to Disney, Ah’d give that man a piece of my mind—!”

“Leave me alone or I’ll call police!”

Scrooge froze upon hearing his nephew shout out in the same manner as he had, and only turned to look at him once the boy had stomped against the floor. Dudley completed his imitated temper tantrum by tossing his crayon box to the ground as hard as he could, before crossing his arms and glaring at it. Then, satisfied with his job, he looked up at his uncle and grinned. Scrooge then realized that the boy had been imitating him this entire time, including pacing the carpet hardly three feet behind him. This reminded him of the days when he had four children running about the house—three nephews and the cook’s daughter—and how everything he did was soaked into their minds. This was an influence he did not wish to be on them, and thus he began to watch what he did.

But once Webby and the boys had grown up and learned clearly what was right and wrong, Scrooge had slowly slipped back into his old habits around them. And now that he had a three year old nephew, he realized that this was not a good thing.

The duck cleared his throat and loosened his collar before chuckling nervously. “Eh, d-don’t do that, that’s not nice,” he muttered while coaxing the boy away with his hands. “Now go and play a little longer while your Uncle Scrooge clears his head.” As the boy obeyed and waddled off, Scrooge passed a hand over his face and sighed while walking back to his red leather chair. “Ah need to start watching how Ah handle business on the phone when kids are around,” he muttered, dropping into the chair and closing his eyes. “Not a moment’s peace around here. Ah’m too old for this.”

Just when he was certain he would finally be able to rest, the phone on his desk beeped. The duck let out a moan and lazily set his finger down over the red button that contacted his secretary. “Aye?” he said.

“Mister McDuck, the boys have just washed and hung your things to dry the way I told them to,” the woman’s voice announced.

Scrooge rolled his eyes. “Ya dinnae have to call me for that, Miss Quackfaster,” he groaned.

“Well, I also had to let you know that Mister Barkson is on line one for you.”

“Barkson?”

“The owner of that rundown factory you were thinking of purchasing.”

Scrooge moaned again and covered his eyes. “He wants to talk nao?”

“Yessir.”

“Ah’m not cut out for this today… Fine, put his call through.” He pulled his finger away from the button and messaged his temples until his phone began to ring again. With another sigh, he placed his hands around the receiver and held it up to his ear. “Hullo, Barkson,” he said.

“Mister McDuck, I hope you’ve been well,” came the man’s voice from the other end.

“As well as could be expected for a busy Toon.”

“I was wondering if you’ve considered the factory yet? I know you said you were interested last week.”

“Aye, Ah was,” Scrooge agreed. He turned his chair to face his desk and sat up straight. Grabbing a pen, he began to jot things down. “What kind of deal do you have for me?”

“Well, I was thinking somewhere around two hundred million.”

Scrooge recoiled at this and glared at the receiver. “Are ya tryin’ ta get on me nerves, Mister Barkson?” he scolded.

“Far from that, Mister McDuck.”

“Then why are you trying to fish me into a pond that shallow? That factory can make me money, but it’s not worth two hundred million dollars!”

“Well, it’s just that the building and the land—!”

“It hasn’t been runnin’ for nearly a decade you told me last time. And there was oil leakage in the earth.”

“Yes, that’s true—!”

“So why are you sayin’ that the land and the building are worth two hundred million of my dollars? Now, if there was a gold mine underneath it, that would be another story. But the ground will have to be dug up and purified, and the building rebuilt, and that already will cost me a fortune. Ah refuse to pay two hundred million dollars on top of that!”

The man at the other end cleared his throat in a nervous manner, which made Scrooge smile momentarily. Despite being an honest worker, he did enjoy making the other party of a business deal nervous with his reasoning. “W-well, I suppose we can come to a negotiation,” Barkson muttered.

Scrooge sat back against his chair again while drumming his fingers over his desk. “That’s better,” he said calmly, although his frown remained on his brow. “Let’s start with the numbers, then. You know how much I like low digits.”

“Um, 100.5 million?”

The duck stared flatly at the receiver before holding it up to his ear again. “Lower,” he said.

“100.2?”

“Lower.”

“… 100 million?”

“Is this the first time you make such a serious business deal, Mister Barkson?” Scrooge said behind clenched teeth.

“How did you—!”

“Because you’re not very good at this game. Everyone knows that Ah like small numbers. Low digits. With as little zeros in the number as possible.” He made signs with his fingers as he spoke, despite knowing the man at the other end could not see. “Now tell me: how many digits less is one hundred million than two hundred million?” When he was replied by a nervous chuckle, Scrooge passed a hand over his face and sighed. “Ahright, Ah can tell you’re gettin’ close to the breaking point, so let’s start from the bottom-up and Ah’ll guide you. How much did that land and the building cost back when it was first acquired by your grandfather?”

“W-well, records say about… um, one hundred thousand dollars… back in the 80s.”

“Reasonable. And the ground was fine back then, am Ah right?”

“Y-yes. No leakage.”

“So we need a number that will be higher than the initial cost, but lower than today’s standards due to the oil leakage and poor state of the building.” Scrooge leaned over his desk again and began to write down calculations. In this time in life, when businessmen and women were younger than he was, he found himself guiding them on good business deals rather than getting into good business dealing. In his idea, universities did not teach the new generation what he thought was necessary, therefore it only added to his list of chores an extra one: teaching a business adversary on how to do business financially. It was not in his position to do so, on account that he was a Cartoon Character, but due to his standards, and considering he owned the Toon Industry and part of the animation company he worked at, he felt like there was no one else left to guide the new generation.

And it began to bore him.

“Sooo, somewhere along the half-mark point is good?” the man at the other end asked after Scrooge had explained how a good business deal went and what would be a good price range for the land and building.

“Well, Ah love going lower than that, but since it’s your first business deal, Ah’ll go easy on ya, Laddie,” Scrooge replied as he placed his cheek against his fist and closed his eyes. He let out a mute yawn before setting off to writing again.

“I need at least seven hundred thousand though.”

“Ah know, Ah know… ya mentioned that.”

“So… nine hundred thousand?”

“Mmm… getting better. Gimme a recap of the details in the deal, Barkson.”

The man gladly recapped the details as Scrooge continued to write on his paper. The duck was bored stiff of this deal, but he did want the land and he did like the enthusiasm and perseverance in this young man’s voice, therefore he continued to stomach it. But just as he was about to begin writing down nonsense—he often doodled silly things when he got bored—something was tossed onto his desk, causing him to look up. It was a black mask, one a child would wear when playing Cops and Robbers. He wondered for a moment where it had come from—Huey, Dewey and Louie had not worn one in years.

“Bess Bagpipes!”

It was at that moment that Scrooge noticed a black top hat at the front of his desk, and two blue eyes peering out from beneath it. There was a giggle and then a small hand, draped in a burgundy red coat with black sleeves, pushed back the rim of the hat, revealing the white feathered head of Scrooge’s three year old nephew. He smiled and bared his teeth before pointing at his uncle. “Stay away from my Money Bin!” he shouted. “I’m Scooge McDuck!”

Scrooge stared at him in completed silence, blinking once or twice. Dudley giggled again and smacked his hand against the top of the desk, making the hat fall over his eyes again. He pretended to look angry. “Don’t touch my money!” he continued. “I’ll call police! Cuz I’m Scooge McDuck, Richest Duck in the whole wild world!”

Scrooge looked on a little longer before finally, for the first time all day, cracked an amused grin.

Dudley took this as encouragement, and pointed at the man. “You better not mess wif meee!” he exclaimed. “You’ll see real Scottish war… waaarr…” The boy frowned for a moment as he thought and then smiled again. “Uh, Scottish warfare! Yeah!” He pretended to play bagpipes afterwards and let out loud honking noises, all the while bouncing up and down and making the large top hat jiggle as though it had a mind of its own.

His uncle’s smile widened at these actions and Scrooge even found himself covering his mouth to keep in a laugh.

Dudley continued to play the imaginary bagpipes before raising his arms in the air and shouting out. He pointed at Scrooge again. “Aaah!” he shrieked. “Beagle Boys want my money! Gotta call Gizmoduck! VROOM!” He disappeared beneath the desk and then popped back up, nearly losing the hat in the meantime. “Oh no, Gizmoduck was defeated! I guess it’s up to me.” He pointed at himself. “Scooge McDuck!” He bounced around in place while turning in a circle, pretended to shoot villains. “Bang, bang, bang! Pshoo, Pow! Ow, ouch! I caught Beagle Boys in my traps!” He pointed at himself again. “My traps are best cuz I built ‘em meself! Nuthin’ gets past me, Scooge McDuck! Hahaha!”

The more he acted out, the more Scrooge found it difficult to hold back his laughter. He covered his eyes at one point and then his shoulders shook at the effort of keeping his chuckles at bay, but when he peeked again and found the boy to be dancing in place pretending to shoot his shotgun, he finally let out a laugh, quickly covering his mouth again.

“S-Sir? Mister McDuck?”

Hearing his name being called by someone other than his nephew brought Scrooge back down to Earth. He cleared his throat and turned his attention back to the phone against his ear, yet never looked away from the child. “Uh, Aye?” he said, a grin still on his lips.

“Uh, were you good with this deal? Or did you want me to go lower?”

Scrooge looked at the phone momentarily until he heard his nephew clear his throat. Dudley shook a finger in his direction and shook his head. “Dinner ignore me, Laddie,” he said, pretending to sound cross.

The old duck looked on before smiling a little more and switching the phone sides of his head. “Uh, Ah’ll need to get back to you on that, Mister Barkson,” he announced. “Somethin’ important just came up.”

“Important?”

“Aye; a long awaited playda—er, Ah mean, conference meeting.” Scrooge wrote a date down quickly. “Can Ah call you back Thursday at two?”

“Um, yes, of course but—!”

“Thank ya dearly, Lad. Don’t give that land away. Have a good afternoon!” He hung up the phone without waiting to hear Barkson say farewell, and once he had set his pen down, he placed his hands together against his mouth and elbows on his desk. He smiled behind his hands at the boy, standing across from him.

Dudley smiled brightly in return and tipped his hat back. “I be a good Unca Scooge, Unca Scooge?” he asked.

Scrooge grinned silently a little longer before setting his hands down and standing up. “Well,” he said, stepping away from his chair, “Ya got the McDuck temper part downpat.” He made his way around his desk until he was standing next to his nephew. “But ya still need work on the Scrooge half. Like—!”

“A cane!” Dudley interrupted, pointing at the cane Scrooge often carried around with him. He grabbed it from the side of the desk where Scrooge had put it down and then stood with his tummy out—or as out as it could be, considering he was drapped in one of his uncle’s expensive coats. He held one hand out with the cane and pretended to look angry. “GRrrr!” he growled while waving the cane before him, much as Scrooge did. “Be gone wif ya! That’s my money! I’m Scooge McDuck!”

Scrooge chuckled and placed a hand over the boy’s arm, causing him to cease waving the cane about. “A cane helps, Aye,” he said. “But you’re not speakin’ right.” He walked up to the fire pit and pulled out a log pick, first making sure it was the dull one—he did not want to harm the boy in case of anything. “Ya have tah lean back, one hand on the cane like this…” Dudley imitated his every move… “And tip your hat back like such…” He leaned down and pushed the hat forward over the boy’s head a little more. “… And lastly, have your chest stick out—!” He giggled before helping the boy reposition himself. “Noo, not your tummy, your chest,” he said. “Ya want ta look like a proud European duck, not a North American goose with a big belly.” He pulled himself back into his former position and cleared his throat, placing his free hand on his hip. “Nao, shake your tail feathers without leaning back and showin’ too much of your bum,” he added, doing what he said and watching the child imitate him, “Just to get the extra fluff out. Then, ya look at the baddie straight in the eye and say with pride…” He pretended to be frowning at one of his enemies while it was really just the door to his vault, and let out in his usual intimidating and loud voice, “I’m Scrooge McDuck, and that’s MY money your holding!”

Dudley giggled and pointed at the invisible villain. “I’m Scooge McDuck,” he growled, “And that’s MY money your holding!”

“Ya have to hold the oo, Dudley,” Scrooge interrupted. “Like this: Scrooooge McDuck! Make them scared of your name, Lad!”

“Scooooge McDuck!” Dudley repeated.

“Scroooooooge McDuck!”

“Scooooooooge McDuck!

“Scrooooge, roll the R, Boy.”

“Scoooooge!”

“Scrooge!”

“Sk-er-oooge!”

“Scrooooge!”

“Sssscwwoooge!”

Scrooge shrugged after this attempt. “Eh, close enough,” he said, setting the pick aside.

Dudley bounced excitedly in place before reaching over the desk and grabbing the mask he had set there earlier. He held it out to his great uncle. “Play Beagle Boys, Unca Scooge?” he asked as the duck held up the mask. “Papa plays wif me all the time. He lets me be you!” He clasped his hands together and bounced in place again. “Play with me, Unca Scooge? Please? I’ll be good, I promise!”

Scrooge listened to the boy and studied the black mask again while rubbing his chin. He still had several things to do before the day was up, which included finishing his rounds. He had yet to check the outside of the building as well, alongside Gizmoduck, too, and hopefully get on at least one phone conference—if not, reschedule one personally.

But something in him told him to drop that for now. It was not every day he had his grand nephew over, especially now that he had to be dropped off at a daycare most of the time due to his parents working on weekdays. And traveling around the globe nearly every month took up most of his time as well. Maybe the reason why he was having a bad day was because he was simply refusing to let the good day commence; maybe Dudley visiting was the good day he had been hoping to have.

A moment of thought longer and Scrooge finally made up his mind. He smiled again and held up the mask so that he could fasten it around his head. “Ah suppose you’d want me dressed the part then, Mister McDuck?” he asked, addressing his words to the boy.

Dudley smiled brightly and pointed at the man’s closet. “Red sweater?” he asked.

“Ah should have a spare.”

“You know how to play a Beagle Boy?”

Scrooge chuckled and walked over to the closet. “Ah’ve memorized everything there is to know about them, Lad,” he said. “Now let’s see who gets to the Money Bin first.”

*****

It was nearing three in the afternoon when Louie finally sent out the list Fenton had given him from the Important Documents floor. He let out a sigh and stretched out his arms and legs once the email had been sent. “Finally, done ordering stuff,” he said, catching the accountant’s attention. “When Unca Scrooge orders things, he doesn’t kid around.”

Fenton scoffed and continued to type on his computer. “That’s because he waits until he needs to spend over two billion dollars in material,” he muttered, making Miss Quackfaster giggle. “His stinginess causes him to spend more money at a time than he’d like to, and that makes him even grumpier than he normally is.”

“He isn’t that bad every time.”

“You don’t have to break him the news, that’s why.”

Louie chuckled behind his hand at that response until a loud THUD against the doors to his uncle’s office made the chandelier above chime for a second or two. Everyone raised their eyes and stared at the doors just as they heard a few muffled giggles coming from behind them.

“I thought Unca Scrooge was on the phone,” Dewey wondered as Huey set his pen down and rose to his feet.

“He’s been off line one for a good ten minutes or so now,” Miss Quackfaster noticed as she peered at her phone board over her glasses. She then looked up and watched as the duck in red headed for the office doors. “So he shouldn’t be busy with anyone.”

“Then what in Duckburg is he doin’ in there?” Fenton said. “I’ve heard about rough business deals, but that was just—!”

There came another THUD against the door, just as Huey was about to grab the doorknob. It made the duck leap back in shock until he heard a familiar laugh within the room. He gasped softly, placed his ear against the door, and when he heard it more clearly, a smile spread over his lips. He looked up at his brothers and beckoned them over. “Hey guys, you remember how Unca Scrooge used to laugh whenever he’d play games around the house with us?” he said as the other two rushed over. “Or how we used to have fun playin’ football in front of his Money Bin?”

“Yeah, what about it?” Dewey said as he and Louie stopped nearby.

Huey placed a finger against his lips, telling them to be quiet, and then silently opened the door. He and his brothers peeked through the door, careful not to be seen.

Scrooge ran by, dressed in an old red sweater he often only wore when at home on days off. There was a black mask over his eyes and one of his money bags tucked beneath his arm. He chuckled while coming to a stop in front of his desk and pointed an invisible gun at someone out of the boys’ sight. “You’ll never make me take this back, Scrooge McDuck,” he said, speaking in a gruff, Bronx accent, much like that of a Beagle Boy. “It’s my money now!”

Dudley hopped into view, pointing Scrooge’s cane at the grownup. The coat he wore dragged onto the ground behind him and the top hat nearly covered his entire head. “You never get away, Beagle Boy!” he growled, attempting to imitate his uncle’s accent. “Ah always win, cuz Ah’m smarter than the smarties and tougher than the toughies, and badder than the baddies!”

“What?” Scrooge put his arm down at this and frowned in confusion. “Ah am not!”

Dudley laughed.

“Ah don’t actually say that, do I?”

The three year old doubled over before running over to the distracted duck and poking him in the stomach with the cane. “Take that!” he exclaimed, making Scrooge groan in pain and drop the bag of money. “Hiya!”

“Oooh, I’m down!” Scrooge cried out, imitating a Beagle Boy. When Dudley whacked him in the side with the cane again, he raised an arm and grabbed the stick. “Oi, Ah do have frailer bones than you, Lad, don’t break ‘em for real,” he muttered in his usual accent. He quickly resumed his role as a villain and pretended to drop dead on the ground.

Dudley put his cane down beside him and then grabbed the money bag. He stood on top of the fallen duck and lifted the small sack over his head—or as high as he could. “HAHAHA! Scwooge McDuck is still the richest duck in the whole wild world!”

“Think again,” Scrooge exclaimed as he turned over and placed his arms around the toddler. Dudley shrieked and dropped the bag of money as his uncle raised him up high into the air. Scrooge brought the boy down and nuzzled his with his bill while growling like a bear, making Dudley laugh hysterically. He held the boy up again and then did the same as before, this time breaking into laughter as well and then wrapping his arms around the child. “Nao Ah am,” he muttered as Dudley broke free and sat down on his uncle’s chest. The boy giggled once more before leaning forward and pecking his uncle on the head and patting it there as though healing an injury.

As the two ducks got back up to play more games, Huey, Dewey and Louie shared smiles and looked at each other. They pulled themselves away from the doors and quietly closed it behind them.

“So?” Fenton asked from the other end of the room. “What’s he up to in there?”

Huey patted his hands together as though dusting them off and turned to look at the accountant and the secretary. Louie chuckled and walked back to his desk.

“He’s busy,” Dewey replied while pushing up his glasses. “A long overdue business meeting.”

*****