Not for the first time, Donald Duck felt himself staring at the list of names Della, his daring little twin sister, had written down before her disappearance.

Jet Racer Duck

Turbo Dashell Duck

Rebel Nobel Duck

… rather odd names, he knew. They were unique, and, except for 'Dashell' none of them were real names that he'd heard in all his 26 years of experience.

And for having unusual names, they would probably be bullied. (Even if he thought the names were awesome. Other kids might not. Or they may pick on the three out of jealousy.)

They were much too precious to be bullied. No, not just precious, they were perfect. They had dove-white feathers, with blue, sapphire eyes.

They were identical in every way looks-wise, and yet were all uniquely beautiful.

"Rebel", the youngest, seemed to sleep more than the rest and be extra disobedient. He had a habit of shoving his foot into his brothers' faces while sleeping.

"Turbo" seemed to vibrate as he slept, uttering quiet 'quack's as he did so.

And "Jet", the oldest of the triplets by three seconds, dozed quietly, whining quietly whenever his youngest brother's foot found its way to his face.

They were only a day old, and already Donald was mesmerized by them. He wanted the very best for them, to provide a future where they would grow up safe and happy.

He tapped his pencil quietly against his knee, staring down at the sleeping ducklings.

What were good, normal names?

It took him about ten minutes of staring at them to determine the perfect names for them.

In his strange tongue, he uttered their names, smiling at them proudly.

On the three birth certificates he was due to fill out, he wrote down Huebert Horace Duck, Dewford Dasher Duck, and Llewellyn Lloyd Duck.

Huey, Dewey, and Louie for short. Completely normal, untauntable names. (He guessed their teacher would only list them as their nicknames, to avoid much of a hassle.)

His boys would do just fine in the great, big world.

(:)

A week later, Donald was awoken for the fifth time that night with an ear-splitting shriek; Dewey was awake and wanting something or another. His cries would lead to his brothers awakening, and… yeah, Donald had given up on sleep.

That's it. Donald determined bitterly, quacking angrily as he stormed down the halls. I am doing all the legal paperwork and renaming you 'Dingus'.