A note was found at the end of a bacon trail at Duckingburg Palace, and it read as follows:

“Good whatever time of day it is to whomever it concerns,

Yes, I have captured Pickles, the royal purebred. As I have understood, you need him for a breeding ceremony in about 24 hours to continue your familiar’s lineage, but in 12 hours, the last human reserve is set to be destroyed as per royal decree. I know they are seen as inferior, but we evolved from them.

I have seen it fit to call your attention to this by letting you know that if the decree is not revoked, and a level Z barrier is not erected for the protection of the last humans, Pickles will be casterated. Do not take me lightly, I’ve wanted to do it for some time now. It’s good for him, but I will relent if you cease and defend the human population.”

King Duckworth paced in the palace not knowing what to do. His familiar was family, but backing off would show weakness.

The Royal Seers weren’t able to determine Pickles’ location using mirrors, crystal balls, or magic eight balls. Any attempt was met with old Family Guy reruns from the early twenty first century. “What should we do, sire?”

With three hours to spare, the following decree was sent from Duckingburg Palace:

“Your King, the Pope of the Magic Union, has decided humans must be kept preserved as a part of our heritage. That is all. All hail me.”

After, he searched for Pickles, only to find him in the flour sack in the Palace kitchen. The king never determined the identify of the kidnapper.

Pickles was fine with this. He loved humans so much that he kidnapped himself. The life of a purebred was torture. He wouldn’t end his lineage without a good reason, but the King always gave in. That was the third time he’d pulled the stunt.