"Are you starting to see why this is a problem, Mr. Duck?"

Donald Duck gave a sideways glance at his therapist, Dr. Snobo, before turning his attention back to the shattered pieces of glass, wood, and metal. Due to another one of his unstoppable temper tantrums, Donald had broken one of his most precious possessions, along with most of his stuff inside his house; an old picture frame that held a picture of his parents, his sister Della, and himself when he was just a duckling, a happy memory that he cherished more than anything else in the world.

"T-This may be getting out of hand," the small duck muttered as he tried to glue the shattered pieces of the frame back together.

The doctor shook his head. "Tsk, tsk this is why I said it was important to keep your temper in check. Why do you like breaking things so much when you're angry?"

Donald shrugged his shoulders before gluing one piece of the frame to another. "It's nice to see something else going to pieces other than my life."

"And what brought on your anger today?"

The duck sighed before he began recalling what had happened earlier in the day. It started off as a normal day, starting his new job as a delivery man-er-duck. His first six deliveries went off without a hitch. The costumers were nice and friendly, and some even gave him a small tip. But when he got to house number seven, that's when his luck had changed for the worse. Donald shuddered just thinking about it.

"Go on, Mr. Duck. Tell me what happened next."

"Well…when I got to the seventh house on my delivery list, I was ambushed by some cat! The little monster started scratching and biting me! As a tax paying citizen I had every right to defend myself! So I smacked that little devil with my mail bag and sent it flying into the nearest garbage can…right when the owner of the cat showed up…" Donald shuddered again when he thought of the red-headed middle aged woman who was the owner of the devil cat. The fire in her eyes as she approached him with her purse that looked like it was filled with rocks.

The shrink nodded his head and stroked his long beard. "Let me guess, the owner of the cat…"

"…Was the person who ordered the package." Donald sighed again. "And you can guess what happened next after that."

"Judging by how angry you were today, you got fired." Doctor Snobo adjusted his glasses and took in his patient's appearance. "And judging by the bruises on your head, you were struck repeatedly by a purse filled with…rocks?"

"…No," the duck said while gently rubbing his sore head. "Five inch steel bolts. Apparently her husband works at a construction site."

The older man nodded his head again. "And when you got home, you were angry and started breaking things around your house, including your beloved picture."

The feathered creature nodded miserably while gluing three pieces of glass together, flinching when accidentally cut himself. He muttered a small 'thank you' when the doctor handed him a band-aid.

"Mr. Donald, you must find another way to vent your anger without breaking anything or hitting anyone."

"I've been trying that for years, Doc! I can't seem to stop it."

"Then you must try harder, Mr. Duck. Surely there's a method you have yet to try."

Donald shrugged his shoulders, turning his attention back onto the broken object in his hands. He rearranged a corner piece of the frame so that it fit with another part of the structure. Slowly but surely it was coming back together.

Dr. Snobo leaned back into his chair in deep thought. Over the past thirty years he had dealt with patients with anger issues, but none of them compared to Donald's. It would take something tremendous to cure this duck's temper.

While the doctor continued to ponder different ways to cure his patient's temper tantrums, Donald was nearly done putting together the broken frame. But before he could place the last piece with the rest, he found that his hand was glued to the desk, the last piece to the frame, and his family photo.

"Have you ever tried writing out your problems?" asked the doctor, aware of the younger man's predicament. 'I knew I should have never let him use the super glue…'

The white duck glared at the shrink while he struggled to free his hand from the desk. "You mean keep a diary about how awful my bad luck is? So I can be reminded on how much the universe hates me? No thank-you! Waaaakkk!" He felt his anger build as he yanked harder away from the desk, determined to free his stuck hand.

"Careful, Mr. Duck," warned the doctor, instantly getting a bad feeling about what was going to happen. "You might just… (Rip)!

The room fell silent, and both males shocked by what had just happened. Donald's blue eyes were frozen on his precious picture which now had a huge tear in the middle. His heart throbbed painfully and his lips quivered. My God, what did he just do?

The shrink quickly rushed to the duck's side. "Now, now, Mr. Duck, there is no need to get depressed over this! We can fix it with a little glu-er-tape! With a little tape we can fix this and no one will ever know!" When he didn't receive an answer he started to get worried. "Mr. Duck…?" The doctor sighed once more. "This is why I tell you to not lose your temper so much. If this problem isn't fixed, I'm…I'm afraid that no one would want to be around you. And you'll be all alone. You don't want that, do you Mr. Duck?"

The young white duck shuddered slightly before shaking his head no. Forcing his body to relax, Donald leaned forward so that the section of the photo that got torn off would stick back together with the half that was stuck to the desk. This was causing a problem. "Y-You really think writing my problems out will help me control my temper?"

"It's a possibility, Mr. Duck. Some of my other patients say that this method works for them. At least give a try next time you feel like you're about to lose your temper."

Donald nodded slowly. "…Thanks, Doc."

"You are welcome. Now, shall we find a way to free you from this glue and fix your photo?"

XxXxXxX

Around eight o'clock in the evening, Donald Duck finally made it back to his house. "Boys, I'm home!" he called out as he walked through the front door. To his surprise the mess that he made earlier had been cleaned up. He smiled a little; his nephews could be such angels sometimes. The sound of pitter pattering footsteps running down the stairs soon entered his ears and three little ducklings wearing the colors red, blue, and green came into view.

"Welcome home…" says Huey.

"Unca…" says Dewey.

"Donald!" says Louie.

The older male patted each duckling on their heads. "Hey boys, how was school today?"

"School was fine, Unca Donald." answered Huey.

"But how was work?" asked Dewey.

"We saw the house was in shambles." said Louie.

Donald sighs and begins to tell his nephews about the bad day he's had. "And all I want to do now is to put my feet up and relax."

"You do that, Unca Donald."

"And tomorrow…"

"We'll help you find another job."

"Thanks, boys." With that said the older male duck retired to his bedroom for the night. After taking a quick shower and changing into his light blue night-shirt. He stared at his newly repaired picture and frame for a while before placing it on his nightstand. "I hope tomorrow will be a better day," he muttered before he crawled into bed.

I'm afraid that no one would want to be around you. And you'll be all alone. You don't want that, do you Mr. Duck?

The duck shuddered again from the words of his therapist. His friends wouldn't leave him because of his out-of-control temper, would they? His overactive imagination began to take hold. 'Is that why my parents made me stay with Grandma Duck?' The young male quickly squashed the thought, mentally smacking himself at such a ridiculous notion. 'All I need is a good night sleep to forget this day ever happened.'

*Dream sequence*

"I can't take this anymore, Mother! His temper is out of control, I can't get him to behave, he keeps getting suspended from school, and we just can't deal with him anymore!"

….

"Wait boys, where are you three going?" cried Donald as he chased his three nephews, who had packed their bags and were walking out the door.

"We're tired of your temper…"

"So we're gonna stay…"

"With Grandma Duck, Unca Donald!"

The three ducklings turned and gave the older male a harsh glare. "WE DON'T WANT YOU FOR AN UNCA ANYMORE!" the three shouted together before turning to leave once more.

"Boys, boys, please don't go! I can change!"

"Ha that's a laugh, Donald!" laughed Daisy as she walked with her arms linked with his born lucky cousin, Gladstone Duck.

The now nephew-less duck was shell shocked at what he was seeing. "D-Daisy, w…what, why are with Gladstone?"

The female duck humphed. "Because, unlike someone that I used to date, Gladstone-sweetie can keep his temper, and he finds all sorts of cool things to give me like money and diamonds! When have you ever done that for me?"

"I-I'm sorry, Daisy! I would all those things if I could…"

"Still making excuses, Donal'?"

"I knew he would never change."

The all white mallard felt his blood run cold when he heard the two familiar voices. Turning around, he saw his two best friends from Brazil and Mexico, Jose Carioca and Panchito Pistoles. W-We're they going to leave him too? This couldn't be happening! "F-Fellas, y…you guys wouldn't…"

"Sorry, Donal', but we found a new third Caballero," says Panchito. The rooster then waves at a familiar face to come over.

Donald's jaw hit the floor when he saw his cousin Gus waddle over. "You're replacing me, with…with Gus Goose?"

"Of course! Not only does our new amigo keep his temper, but he's a much better singer as well," replies Jose. With that said the newly formed trio walked away from the former member of the three Caballeros.

Tears began to fill Donald's eyes as he watched his family and friends leave him all alone. His heart felt like it had been shattered into a million pieces, just like his picture frame. "Wait, you guys! Please don't go away! I can change! I CAN CHANGE!"

*End dream sequence*

Donald jolted up with a start and found himself hanging half way out of bed, completely tangled in his bed sheets. Desperately trying to catch his breath, the duck let himself hang in the air until he felt the terror pass from his body. He's had nightmares before, but none of them were as scary as this one. 'And to think that all my friends and family would abandon me because I lose my temper to much. I don't think I could take it. I have to control my rage!' Unable to take the feeling of blood rushing to his head anymore, the male struggled against the binding sheets, and fell head first onto the wooden floor.

"This is just exasperating," he muttered. He stayed on the ground, waiting for the dull ache in his head to pass before unrolling himself from the sheets and walking over to his desk. Still feeling a little bit of rage that lingered from earlier today, Donald sat down at his desk and pulled out a pen and piece of paper. 'I might as well test to see if this writing method helps my rage. At this point, I'll try anything.'

Dear Universe,

I HATE YOU! DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH GRIEF YOU HAVE GIVEN ME SINCE I WAS BORN? WHY DO YOU HATE ME SO MUCH? WHAT DID I EVER DO TO YOU? WHY, why, why? Why do I get stuck with all the bad luck...why can't anything go my way for a change? All I'm asking you is why…Do you like seeing me angry? Do you want me to lose everyone I care about?

Signed

Donald F. Duck

The water fowl put down his pencil once he felt remaining anger leave his body. He felt calmer and less stressed about the events that happened today. And it felt nice to somehow describe how he was feeling even if it was to a piece of paper. A small grin appeared on his beak. "Ha I think this might actually work! I'm finally gonna change!"