Work Header

Your Other Contender For The Title of The World's Wealthiest Duck

Work Text:

I've heard that whiskey-voiced former prison brawler (1.) mutter the slur 'pretender, '

And he's said that either behind my back or to your face more times than I can remember.

When it comes to wealth-measuring contests, I've also seen you and him throw down,

And I'm NOT impressed with his growled threats, your nasty temper, or both of your right hooks.

In the eyes of wealthy society, I'm ranked at number three. (2.)

Just below you two brawlers who don't want to spend more money than either of you has to.

But just because I look the part of the cream of wealthy society,

That doesn't mean I don't have what it takes to topple both of you. (3.)

If either of you is thinking of overlooking me as your other contender,

Take this warning from me as something for both of you to remember:

All I have to say is both of you will go down,

Even if that means I have to take a few pages from both of your respective playbooks.

Yes, Mr Whiskey-Brawler (4.), you get knocked down on your tailfeathers again and again,

Only for you to roll back to your webbed feet.

You, Mr Lucky Dime (5.), you actually get slapped in the face by wave after wave of extreme levels of pain,

Yet you refuse to concede defeat.

You say your wealth comes from your smarts and your wits, but Whiskey-Brawler claims it's all because of your dumb luck.

Well, all of the most extreme rivalries take at least two to make the loser mutter his plea.

If Whiskey-Brawler can get a shot at your title of World's Wealthiest Duck,

Why shouldn't I take that shot for myself while he's flapping his bearded beak at you and me?

You're wealthier in one more way that Whiskey-Brawler and I have yet to be.

You have three triplet nephews and family watching your back.

I have my secretary and employees and Whiskey-Brawler has his staff and guards under lock and key. (6.)

All your blessings are enough to make even this tough duck's heart and mind slowly begin to crack.

When I heard that you made Whiskey-Brawler eat his own hat in Ronguay (7.),

I nearly stood in a puddle from laughing myself sore.

Then I think of how my own contests with you ended up going the wrong way,

And my wrath kicks itself back up until it's at full bore. (8.)

They've excluded me from contention for too long,

And I'm saying "No more!" to being barred from your wealth-measuring stints

Because my wrath and my ambition have already barreled past their peaks.

Don't consider my ringside hat toss entry (9.) to be my swan song.

My quest for all the wealth can't be measured in pints or in subtle hints.

So now it's time for both of you to either duckman up or finally shut your beaks!