StranglingUnique

13 Years Later Huey (Age 21) Dewey and Louie (Age 18) Huey woke up with the sound of his alarm clock ringing. He groaned and rolled over and turned it off. He yawned and wiped his eyes. He smiled weakly at a small picture that stood on his bedside table. He picked up gently and examined it. On the picture was of him and his brothers when they were eight and the one who held them closely in a loving embrace was their late Uncle Donald. Huey chuckled as he remembered what kind of day it had been. He remembered that this was one of those days when Uncle Donald was in one of his better moods. He remembered this was one of Louie’s bett

Prologue Huey (Age 7) Dewey and Louie (Age 4) Huey and Dewey were hiding underneath the couch while the screaming of their youngest brother, Louie, continued. Huey looked over to where Dewey was. He saw that Dewey was trying his hardest to cover his ears and the soft sound of whimpering could be heard. Huey quietly scooted over and held Dewey close to his chest and covered Dewey’s ears for him. “Sh,” Huey whispered. “It’s okay, D-Dewey.” He stroked Dewey’s hair as his chest and arm of the hand that stroked Dewey’s head covered Dewey’s ears. He could tell that the tears from his own ey

You were so unprofessional, You backed others up instead of fixing the harm they did to me. You were so unprofessional, For not seeing the hell you did to me. You were so unprofessional, In giving me a warning for thinking I was acting as someone I'm not. You were so unprofessional, In not seeing how I have stayed out of trouble. You were so unprofessional, For thinking I was a troublemaker, Instead of her or him. You were so unprofessional, As a Global Moderator.

We used to be in a place where we had to hide, That place was called Salem. Now, we’re in a place where we can roam free, Not have to hide. So, why are some of us still stuck in Salem times, Why do some of us still look for a witch to hang, Not by a rope, but by politics and religion, By thinking that there’s a one true religion. Some of us still need to learn that we’re not in Salem, There hasn’t been a cry for the hanging of a witch, By rope. So, why do I feel like we’re still in Salem, Despite the rope being replaced by politics, Religion. If we’re allowed to roam free now, Than some of us should rea

It was an early afternoon and Donald Duck and his nephews were at the funeral of their late Great-Uncle Scrooge McDuck.  Huey, Dewey, and Louie stood outside the church's doors.  They watched as their Uncle Donald whispered his thanks and shook hands with those who attended and loved Scrooge dearly.  Huey and Dewey stood on either side of their Uncle Donald. Louie stood alone next to Dewey. He took hold of Dewey's hand in his and closed his eyes.  He tried to keep his tears and grief at bay.  He knew that Uncle Scrooge would want him to be happy, not sad.  He sighed and gripped Dewey's hand tightly. This was going to be hard. Dewey felt L