Cartoon Duck Donald Mga Nobela at Kwento

Then he walked off, leaving me there, humiliated and empty-handed. This time? Not happening. I dug a carton of strawberry milk out of my bag. It was supposed to be my breakfast, but it felt way more useful as a prop. "Here," I said, holding it out. "Drinking too much isn't great for your stomach." Kenneth glanced up, icy as ever. "I don't need your pity." "Cool," I said, unfazed. I set the milk next to him. "But if you trash your stomach, your mom wouldn't like it."

Too bad they never imagined I had already gotten rid of it. My phone suddenly buzzed with a message. I glanced down and smiled bitterly. Mom and Dad thought it was a concerned message from Byron, and they exchanged guilty glances. Unfortunately, they were only half right. It was indeed from Byron, but the message read, "Something came up at work. I won't be home tonight." Right after that, Claire sent me a video. Byron was in the hospital, head bowed as he peeled an orange for her, his gaze tender. The caption read, "I'm the one Byron loves. An ugly duckling is forever an ugly duckling. You'll never become a swan."

Donald duck! I started laughing hysterically and sprinted away from him. I heard loud footsteps and knew that he was following me. I glanced behind and he was pretty fast, but what was more funny was that he was galloping. I laughed loudly and squeaked, "Quack, Quack, Quack." "Don't make it hard for me whore, come here and we'll have lots of buns-nuns . . . fun," he slurred and I shook my head while running.