Donald POV: I look into the wrinkly, old faces of my multiplied aunties. They all have my haircut for some reason.
"My young soldier, you've come so far.." They chant, their shrivelled lips smacking together loudly with mischief.
I look around. I'm in a weird room with my face painted all over the walls. The ceiling is covered in Donald blood and hairs.
"Just rest now, my little nutcracker... It'll be over sssssssoon...." They hiss, momentarily turning into a giant snake as I scream in terror. They go back to the normal Gertrudes, and a particularly shrively one puts an oxygen mask over my mouth.
A few moments pass, and a Gertrude swears in confusion. "He's supposed to be out!" She screams, banging her head against the wall, ruining the beautiful portraits of me.
I take the mask off. "It's just oxygen." I inform her, and she sighs.
Another Gertrude forces the mask onto my face. "Oh, it must do I suppose." She tuts, pulling out a cleaver.
"waitwaitwaitwaitwAIT!" I yell through my mask.
Gertrude takes no notice, and others duct tape me to the surface I'm laying on. The cleaver Gertrude raises the knife and starts carving into my body. I cry in agony, as her flappy old man-fingers reach into my stomach. I feel a pull, and something is taken out. I pass out again.
~
I wake up again, in a ditch. My side is aching. I lift up my skin flaps to see a stitched up area.
Damn it, they took my liver.
