Meh and the Final Boss Donaldan
The air in Meadowview High’s courtyard was thick with the stench of pond scum and defiance. Meh, with her neon-streaked hair and a smirk sharp enough to cut glass, stood on a wobbly picnic table, her crew fanned out behind her like a pack of feral cats. Alan clutched his skateboard, Gerald scribbled cryptic notes in his prophecy journal, Alexis twirled a rubber band like a gunslinger, and Mada spray-painted a glowing duck on the pavement, muttering, “Art’s my weapon, yo.” They were the Mehs, chaos incarnate, and they’d faced weird before—glitchy cafeteria toasters, rogue scooter gangs, marshmallow wars down Main Street. But this? This was next-level. It started with the ducks. Not your average pond waddlers, but a legion of beady-eyed mallards, quacking in eerie unison, led by a beast they’d dubbed Final Boss Donald—a duck so massive it could’ve body-slammed a minivan. Its feathers shimmered like oil slicks, and its beak, jagged as a serrated knife, glinted under the noon sun. Gerald h...