Refuge in Audacity
"Hey, Mr. Milford!"
"Why, hello, there, Janice!" the Mr. in question looked up from his many files and spreadsheets. "What brings you to my office, today?"
"Ah, just wanted to say 'hey' to the best boss in the Tri-State area, that's all!"
"Oh, you. Come on, there's gotta be a reason!"
"No, really," Janice shrugged, all chipper smiles. "I just wanted to check in before my vacation. See how things are going with you?"
"Well, honestly, they couldn't be better!" Milford was just as chipper. "Today's a big day for me, y'know."
"That so?"
"Yepperoni! You remember Carl, my little one?"
"Oh, how could I
forget?"
"Little scamp's all grown up and presenting his perpetual motion machine to his school science fair."
"Well, that's just lovely," Janice gave a thumbs up.
"It sure is! Same day as his brother's graduating college, too!"
"What a coincidence!"
"Ha, you're tellin' me. I'm havin' to leave work early just to make sure I make it to both of them! But family is important."
"Oh, for sure, for sure."
"You can't put a price on being there for you kids," Milford declared, leaning back in his seat. "And that's not even mentionin' they found my missing wife!"
"Ah, see, I toldja she'd come back to you!" Janice gently thumped his shoulder.
"I know, I know, I'm a worrywart," Milford raised his hand in surrender. "Still, six years is an
awful long time to get lost after a game of bridge."
"So you'll be seeing her for the first time in a while, that's fun. Her first, so you can all go to the science fair and the graduation together?"
"Well, there's one other stop I gotta make before all that, so I can pick her up. Turns out, I won a brand new flying car!"
"Oh, I know I say this all the time, but:
get outta town!"
"Good thing they managed to contact me, too. If I show up to claim it any later than today, they're gonna have to give that thing away to the runner-up!"
"Well, lucky you."
"Then, of course, we gotta go pick up my grandma from the hospital. We'd do it first thing, but the surgery won't actually be done until 6 o'clock. Should go well, though, fingers crossed."
"It is
miraculous, the recovery that woman made."
"Still contagious, though, 'til the infected tissue's removed. Today's gonna be my first day seeing her in person in six months!"
"Well, I can certainly understand why you'd wanna leave work early."
"I figure I've earned a little 'me time'."
"Still, somethin' of a busy day!" Janice marveled. "All good things, I mean, but..."
"I wouldn't have it any other way," Milford smiled back at her. "I'm very thankful for all the good things that are happening for me and my family, and truly humbled, besides. I wouldn't miss today for the wo-"
The door to the office suddenly slammed open, and Patrick, Mr. Milford's secretary, burst into the room.
"Sir!" he shouted, frantic. "Doofenschmirtz Evil Incorporated is having
another press conference!"
"HOLY TOLEDO!" Milford shouted, standing, and pointing at the television hanging on the wall. "Patrick, clear my schedule for the day!"
"Thank you all for clearing your schedules for the day," Doctor Heinz Doofenschmirtz,
kindly eccentric grandfather dictator of the Tri-State area stood on the raised platform, smiling for the cameras as the background music swelled… for all of two seconds, before suddenly looking sharply confused. "I'm, I'm not sure why I said that? This conference shouldn't take more than, like, twenty minutes, tops. There's really no reason, or at least none
I can think of, you know, to clear out a whole day? Yeah, the more I'm thinking about it, the more that was a
weird thing to say. L-l-l-let me try that again, okay? Sorry 'bout that."
He cleared his throat.
"Thank you all for clearing your next twenty minutes of the day," Doofenschmirtz repeated, the music swelling once more. "I wanted my company to call this press conference to talk about the
last press conference my company called, in which everybody almost died and we destroyed our reputation forever."
Despite the fact that the music was being provided by a live band, it stopped on a record scratch.
"Good times!" the Good Doctor continued, cheerfully, after a few moments. "Anyway, uh...just wanted to take some time to, you know. Update you guys."
There was the awkward shuffling of papers, for a few moments.
"I wanted to say that everything was exactly what it looked like." Finally, the pronouncement came. "One of my employees came out here with some Flubber, poured some uncreatively-named sciencey stuff into it, and then almost exploded everybody in a several-mile radius. Having failed to do that – and trust me,
been there – she was then arrested, and taken to the legendary/infamous, either or,
Impel Duck, the prison from which nobody has ever escaped!"
Yet another awkward pause.
"
Haven't been there!" Heinz eventually said. "You know. To Impel Duck. I mean, obviously, why would I have been? Complete non-sequitur. Anyway, uh, she's still there." He put the papers down on the podium. "Ludivine von Drake is still in Impel Duck, which is still an inescapable prison from which no one has ever escaped, and
definitely no one has ever broken anyone out of."
Doofenschmirtz adjusted his microphone. Cleared his throat.
"Everything's exactly what you thought it was. Everything is stable, there are no people who carelessly handle Flubber on the loose, and Impel Duck is still as impregnable as ever. Nothing has changed."
…
"And here to explain just how
much nothing has changed!" Doof stepped aside from the podium, throwing his arms out wide. "Is a man I don't know from the United States Government!"
The crowd launched into a cheering standing ovation, applauding wildly as the man in the dark suit and dark glasses drudged towards the podium, his face fallen into his hands.
"Why is Danville like this," he muttered, just loudly enough for the microphone to pick up. Everyone was polite enough not to point out his faux pas, thankfully. "My name is Mr. Redacted -"
"THAT'S the name! That's the one! I couldn't remember it!"
"- and I am here to assure you all," Mr. Redacted's grip on the podium tightened, "That despite any
unfounded rumors you might have heard, the incredibly secure prison known as Impel Duck, which was designed to keep the American people safe from the worst and most dangerous people on the planet, has never, ever,
ever been broken into, broken out of, had a secret level hidden in it, or otherwise been subverted. Anything you have heard to the contrary is hearsay. And likely propaganda. And possibly even
Communist."
The crowd gasped in terror.
"I know. Shocking to think." Mr. Redacted mournfully shook his head. "Rest easy, citizens. Your well-being and continued freedom are protected by the best money your government can print, and in turn, the best security businessmen can buy. As you can imagine, the richest duck in the world can buy some fairly secure security."
The crowd chortled, interspersed with "He sure can!"s and "That makes sense!"s and one "Has anyone seen my poodle?"
"The Flubber-flinging, fiendish fowl shall never again see the light of an American day," Mr. Redacted actually managed a smile. It was kind of off-kilter, like he'd forgotten to take the safety off first because he so rarely fired it, but still. "You have the United States Goverment's solemn word on that."
"And de government's vord's as guddas de gold, haventcha been hearin'?" a female duck strode on stage, booming loudly enough in her strange accent that she didn't need the mike for all to hear her. "Dat's vhy they're the people in charge of printin' da money! It's da gold-standard for a reason, yep, yep."
"Excuse me, Mr. Redacted?" The member of the press (you could tell by his porkpie hat) held a fried velociraptor leg as though it was a microphone. "Isn't that the criminal, right there? The one you specifically said could not have possibly escaped?"
Mr. Redacted was turning an interesting color. Some breathing returned him to normal, at which point he grit his teeth, and said: "No. No, it is not."
"But it looks exactly like her," this second member of the press wielded a dachsund.
"Bark!" the dachsund, also wearing a porkpie hat, rejoined.
"Yes," Mr. Redacted said. "But this is not Ludivine von Drake, who was arrested for the crimes of Flubber possession and domestic terrorism, fairly tried, and sentenced to life in Impel Duck,
where she still remains," Another deep breath, "But instead a different… duck. That Doctor Doofenschmirtz just hired yesterday."
"Quite right, quite right," the duck said, nodding. "You be seein', dat dere nincomstupid who vas throwin' around Flubber like some kinda CRAZY PERSON, do ho ho,
dat vas my twin sister!" She lowered her voice. It did nothing to make it less loud. "Always kinda been de black sheep a da family. With, er, of course, apologies to all'our Zootopian friends."
"That is right," Mr. Redacted dragged his hand over his face. "This is. Ludivine's twin sister. Who Doofenschmirtz hired to replace Ludivine after the incident. Very much
not the duck who went around wildly brandishing one of the most dangerous substances on Earth like it was a canister of Play-Doh. That would be
insane."
"So what's her name?" This one wasn't even a press member. Looked like a chef, judging by the hat.
"Her name, of course." Mr. Redacted swallowed. "This fine woman and definite
upstanding member of society is Ms. Von Drake, first name…"
Slowly, Mr. Redacted turned towards her.
Innocently, Definitely-Not-Ludivine fluttered her eyelashes at him.
Mr. Redacted turned back to the crowd with one last sigh. "...Ludacris."
Having heard this from his TV, a certain rapper living in Atlanta picked up his phone and called his lawyer.
Some might say it would be folly to try and sue the government for copyright infringement, but these people just don't know hip hop.
