It was a bright, sunshiny afternoon in the suburbs of St. Canard, and the pleasantness of the day even managed to affect Drake Mallard, who usually wasn't so much of a sap that the clear sunshine would lighten his mood. But it did, and he was humming to himself as he cooked dinner. A big tuna casserole! Gos would complain, but a certain goofy pilot would eat the whole pan if he let him.

He could hear said pilot snoring away on the couch in the living room, not doing a damn thing to help Drake in the kitchen. Well, if LP helped, the whole kitchen would burn down, Drake thought, smiling a bit as he placed the pan in the oven to bake. Distantly, he heard the phone ring.

"LP, can you get that please?" Drake called, but the pilot kept on snoring, which just irritated him. "I guess I have to do EVERYTHING around here myself!"

And snatching the phone off the hook, he said curtly, "Yeah?! Hello?"