Journal - Day 10 (Or: A Spoonful of Sodium
Pentathol Makes the Medicine Go Doooowwnn...)
"Salagadoola mechicka boola.....Bibbidi-bobbidi-boo..."
The old woman wouldn't leave me alone. It was all part of Goofy's psychological
warfare, I knew...He was trying to make me crack, make me call him. I
ran out of my meds three days ago, and my tootsie pop store was dwindling
dangerously. I have scuttled back into the darkened corner of the room
where I have most of my ammo and the TV remote control. One flick of the
wrist, and two minutes later, Dumbo the recon elephant, that radiated
freak of teary-eyed nature, will be so much splatter on the walls...Along
with whoever else they've sent. Goofy...
"Salagadoola mechicka boola bibbidi-bobbidi-boo...It'll do magic
believe it or not..."
I stared at the phone, my bottle of J&B shaking in my hand as I drank,
sloshing amber liquid all over a small pile of hand grenades. I had to
hold it together.
I knew I couldn't call the crisis line again...The phone worker kept trying
to track my location. They were messing with my mind, all of them... humming
"A Dream is a Wish Your Heart Makes" when they thought I wasn't
quite listening, then asking if I has a glass slipper, oops, they mean
a case manager, if I'm on a meds program for my "Fairy Dust addiction"
while snickering softly under their breath.
I could just see Snow White, Pocahontas, and Prince "Indecency Charge"
Ali, as usual playing with his "magic carpet", all standing
around the phone room with stop watches and smirking. A picture of Walt's
frozen head is on the wall, staring down at all of them with mild good
cheer as they wait for the wire trace to pinpoint my location.
The Godmother hummed softly to me..."Do you remember this song, Raine,
my dear? You know, I always thought of you as kind of a...Oh I don't know...A
I was tempted to storm out, to launch a kamikaze mission against them
all, the whole lot of them and their sick amusement park games, but I
couldn't. That's just what they would be expecting....God, why wouldn't
she stop leaving these messages? I tried to delete them, but her Fairy
Godmother Mojo jammed my machine somehow, and now I am forced to listen
to her smug soprano bounce off the concrete-and-kevlar walls of my bunker,
day and night the accursed music until my insides turn into sappy, compliant
There's no end in sight. None, until Goofy comes to settle his old score,
or someone finds me. No one in the FLO knows where I am, and I have to
keep it a secret from even Reade...for fear that her time with the creme-pie
harem mind wiper, Mary
Poppins, did something to her brain that even the little guy couldn't
quite cure. I shivered, remembering the "experiments" I was
witness to. Just like the others, she would be fine, and then suddenly,
inexplicably, have to open an umbrella against the clear blur sky, click
her sensible shoes together, and feel compelled to report to Disney HQ,
eyes blank and mumbling, "Supercala....noooo....fragilistic.....god,
noooo.....expialid...", driven by some strange force she just had
no control over.
"....Bibbidi-Bobbidi-Bboo...Put 'em together and what have you got?
BUT!!!...The thingmabob that does the job is....."
The dirty old biddy, she thinks I don't remember her expression, her high-pitched
cackling that night when Goofy and she taught me the real meaning of those
horrible, filthy lyrics... I can still see her as she flew, levitating
around the room, arms waving, screaming with Goofy and a strung-out Tinkerbell,
little worker mice sewing furiously, terrified at her feet, huddled near
the door, just trying to stay out of our way....Hoping against hope that
they wouln't get trod on, or worse, that what happened to Cinderella on
her wedding night wasn't possible with mice, discarded like so much stale
pumpkin goo past midnight, canned and sent back to the "Magic Fun
Someone would find me soon, I knew. One way or the other, the FLO would
find me. Either way, this place was rigged sky-high, and I was ready to
mop up some mouse.