It was nearing dusk in Liberty Square. Outside the Haunted Mansion perched two large vultures. Sneaky-looking with tophats, they were the villainous Boothill Boys, always trying to get a meal out of the dead.

Unlike, other vultures, however, they did not eat roadkill or carcasses, it was too hard to find. Instead, they preferred to eat ghosts...or at least attempt to do so. No one was sure if they had ever accomplished it, but the birds seemed to think they had, once, which was good enough for everyone else.

"Straws ready?" whispered one of them.

"They're always ready," replied the second, whipping out a pair of cartoon-esque straws.

"Let's go in there and suck," said the first one.

"You just ruined it right there."

As a group of guests entered, the lurking vultures eagerly swooped in and attempted to blend in in the dim light.

"Where are they?" wondered one of the Boothills.

"Everyone knows there aren't any ghosts in the foyer, idiot!" snapped the other. "We have to at least wait for the Doombuggies."

"Well, excuse me, Disney dork."

"I am NOT a dork!"

A kid next to them poked one of the birds. "Aren't you supposed to be on Splash Mountain right now?" he asked them.

"We're taking a break," the first Boothill said quickly, not wanting to be noticed.

"A lunch break," the second one added, in a sinister voice.

"But it's almost dinnertime," the kid pointed out.

The Boothill Boys were getting fed up at this point. "Then we're taking a dinner break! Don't take things so literally, kid!"

"What are you going to eat?" the kid asked.

The first Boothill smiled, not being able to hold back a sinister joke. "Let's just say YOU'VE got nothing to worry about unless you plan on dying in the next eight minutes."

"Ghosts are more in our taste," explained the second.

"That's all I needed to hear," said the kid, his voice sounding strangely deeper. The first Boothill cracked up. "What, you're going to report us?"

"Ooh, he'll go to Town Hall!" cackled the second one. "I'm terrified! No one's gonna believe you!"

When the vultures looked up, they saw, to their shock, that the kid wasn't a little boy anymore. He had morphed into the Ghost Host himself, George Gracy! "Welcome, foolish mortals!"

With a swift kick, the Boothills were sent flying out of the mansion into the cemetery outside. They angrily dusted themselves off and were about to fly away...when several decaying hands reached out of the dirt and dragged them under.

"AAAAAAHHHHHH!!!"

The few seconds the Boothill Boys experienced below were sheer terror, and cannot be accurately summed up verbally. But when the vultures frantically dug their way to the surface (the amused corpses were more than happy to let such an entertaining duo go), their only thought was to get home and fast!

Flying faster than they ever had before, the Boothill Boys fluttered back to Splash Mountain, through the queue, the loading area, around the exterior, through the happy land of "Zip-a-doo-dah," through the Laughing Place (where they were sure everyone was laughing at THEM) and finally back to their perches near the final lift.

"I think we lost them," panted the first vulture.

The second one checked his leg. "Oh dear...I seem to have a souvenir." Grinning slightly, he pointed to a dead arm that was still clinging to him. Hungry, the Boothill Boys squabbled over the arm, only for it to briefly come "to life," slap them both, and drop into a log below, full of startled guests.

"That was humiliating," moaned the second Boothill Boy.

"Cheer up," said the other one, spying something near the cave's edge.

There's a fire burning up on Chick-a-Pin Hill. You know what that means..."

"It means that those morons are about to screw up more than we ever could!"

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The morons here were Brer Fox and Brer Bear. Somehow, they had captured Brer Rabbit and had him tied up, ready to eat him. This was a familiar sight, and no one was alarmed. After all, Brer Rabbit always escaped.

Brer Fox eagerly prodded Brer Rabbit with a fork. "Well, Brer Rabbit, I thinks I'se gonna roast ya!"

"Go ahead, Brer Fox," Brer Rabbit said, with much mock terror, "roast me if you likes, but please don't fling me in dat Briar Patch!"

Brer Bear looked up. "Dat, uh, dat..."

"...sounds familiar, ain't it?" laughed Brer Fox. "We ain't fallin' fo' dat trick again, is we, Brer Bear?"

"No, uh, we's too smart for dat."

Brer Fox agreed. "Dat we is! You tries dat every time, and we knows it well!"

Brer Rabbit waited a second, and then calmly repeated, "Please don't fling me in dat Briar Patch."

Acting as if he had never heard of the idea, Brer Fox grabbed Brer Rabbit and dashed a foot over to the opening of the cave. "Briar Patch! I'se glad I thought o' dat!"

"I jes' wanna knock his head clean off!" Brer Bear grabbed his club and headed over as well.

Grinning, Brer Fox threw Brer Rabbit over the edge, just as a log full of guests went over at the same time. Brer Rabbit landed with a "SPLUNCH" (a splashy sort of crunch) and called out, "I'm done fo'!"

Of course, Brer Rabbit had been "Born an' bred in a briar patch," and snuck off, laughing to himself, no worse for the wear.

Brer Fox stood there for a few moments, silently staring down at the flume. Finally, he did a massive double-take. "WHAT DID I JUST DO?!"

"You fell for the same old trick," said a sly voice behind him. Brer Fox turned around to see that the Boothill Boys had joined Brer Bear at the table.

"I tol' you an' I tol' you we shouldda knocked his head clean off," Brer Bear insisted.

"Now, look at dis!" moaned Brer Fox, pacing frantically. "Look at dis, dis won't do! I got supper all sets up an' nothin' to eat! What we gonna eat, Brer Bear?"

"You know," mumbled Brer Bear, "we could just..."

Not waiting to hear what his only friend had to say, Brer Fox, with lightning speed, grabbed the Boothill Boys. "I'se in the mood fo' chicken, anyhow!"

"We're vultures and you know it!" gagged one of the vultures, now a little scared.

Hunger had taken over the fox. "All tastes the same once you gets cooked long enough!" Brer Fox held the birds over a boiling pot when he was suddenly conked in the head by Brer Bear.

"NOW LOOK!" growled the bear, finally getting everyone's attention. He lowered his voice. "De day ain't over yet. We still has a chance at ketchin' Brer Rabbit, we just gotta follow him home, dat's all."

Brer Fox sprang up. "Of course, of course, great idea I had! We just has to follow him home an' den we'll catch him again! An' DIS time, he won't get away!"

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Over by his Briar Patch, Brer Rabbit was getting ready to leave, when Mr. Bluebird fluttered over. "Where ya headed tonight?"

"De Hitchhiking Ghosts an' I are finally collaber-atin' our brains to make de bes' documentary ever! Right on Tom Sawyer Island! It'll rock de cinemas!"

(To the tune of "When the Sun Goes Down In the South" from Big River)

When de sun goes down on de park

An' a few ghosts 'n rodents is bored

We'll film movie out on de island

Worthy of an Oscar award

When de moonlight is shinin' down

And de last guests have gone out de gate

Den down to Tom Sawyer's we're all gonna run

De suspense, why, none of us can wait

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Over at the Haunted Mansion, Ezra, Phineas, and Gus were getting ready as well.

Ezra: Well, anybody wonderin' what they're going to see

Phineas: Gonna have to wait till we put up on Youtube

Gus: Anybody wonderin' what's goin' on

Ezra: All we say is with luck there'll be a few boobs

Hitchhiking Ghosts: When the moonlight is shinin' down

And the last guests have gone out the gate

Then, down to Tom Sawyer's we're all gonna run

The suspense, why, none of us can wait

"Boys," grinned Ezra, "this may be our finest hour."

"Finer than the time we heard the New Japan Philharmonic played an hour-long suite of the songs from the Land Before Time sequels?" asked Phineas.

"MUCH finer. Everyone loved the Blair Witch Project, and those who didn't will be taken out by Gus."

"Sweet," said Gus.

"And everyone loves Disney, too," continued Ezra, "so combining them would be ULTIMATE!"

"Is this like 'Ultimate Frisbee'?" quivered Phineas. "Because I never really liked that game."

"Wimp," grumbled Gus.

"I TOOK A FRISBEE TO THE FACE!"

Ezra rolled his eyes. "Just repress the memories."

"But it happened this morning."

"Aw, quit spazzing and start singing!" insisted Ezra.

Ezra and Phineas: When the sun goes down in the park

When any sane person would sleep

We've got a mission to do, ya see

The competition's gonna lie in a heap

Gus: When the moonlight is shinin' down

And the last guests have gone out the gate

Hitchhiking Ghosts: Then, down to Tom Sawyer's we're all gonna run

The suspense, why, none of us can wait

Unbeknownst to the ghosts, T.R. Chula, the Mansion's resident spider, was listening outside. "Wow! I just loooooooooove passing off a fraud as the real thing! Those ghosts had better let this spider help 'em out!"

Phineas looked out the window. "Hey, here comes Brer Rabbit! Let's go!"

Gus: When the darkness falls on the park

(Brer Rabbit: Darkness falls on de park)

And the firework magic has ceased

(Brer Rabbit: Firework magic has ceased)

We're gonna sing and dance and paint the park red

Ezra and Phineas: Or maybe purple at least

Chula crawled over and tried to join in as well.

Chula: When the moonlight is shinin' down

And the last guests have gone out the gate

The Hitchhiking Ghosts didn't notice the extra singer and trampled him.

Hitchhiking Ghosts: Then, down to Tom Sawyer's we're all gonna run

Brer Rabbit and Hitchhiking Ghosts: The suspense, why, none of us can wait

Brer Rabbit: Well, anybody wonderin' what dey're going to see

Phineas: Gonna have to wait till we put up on Youtube

Gus: Anybody wonderin' what's goin' on

Ezra: All we say is with luck there'll be a few boobs

Brer Rabbit: When de moonlight is shinin' down

And de last guests have gone out de gate

Den, down to Tom Sawyer's we're all gonna run

Hitchhiking Ghosts: The suspense, why, none of us can wait

Soon, the four were on a raft and heading down to the island, ready for anything.

All: When the sun goes down in the park

When any sane person would sleep

We've got a mission for us, ya see

The competition's gonna lie in a heap

When the moonlight is shinin' down

And the last guests have gone out the gate

Then, down to Tom Sawyer's we're all gonna run

The suspense, why, none of us can wait

Then, down to Tom Sawyer's we're all gonna run

The suspense, why, none of us can wait!

The Boothill Boys watched their prey sailing away, singing and dancing. "They're going to be all alone on that island, aren't they? Cut off, isolated..."

"The perfect targets!" crowed the second vulture.

"We gots to use dis chance to catch dem!" cried Brer Fox. "I don't knows when we'll gets another one!"

"Yeah, uh," mumbled Brer Bear, "we gotta go..."

"We gotta go right now!" cried Brer Fox. "Who's wid me?"

"Grab the emergency straws," said one of the Boothill Boys. The hunt was on.


The original title was "The Blair Rabbit Project," not nearly as catchy.

There's actually a long backstory behind this one. It was going to start out as a "Calvin at Camp" story, with Jason as Huck and Marcus as Jim. Then, worried about how offensive some people might take it, or about how seriously I could take myself, I decided to make it a loose parody, where neither boy was a slave, and both were out for adventure. Calvin and Hobbes would have doubled up as Tom Sawyer, and the King and Duke would have been Ed, Edd, 'n Eddy. They would also be followed around by a phantom barrel (inspired by a ghost story featured in the book), which would always cause them bad luck. Near the end, they would open the barrel, to find it was merely filled with pickles. Later, villains (whomever they would have been, chasing them for money they found in a cave) would chase them and the pickles would float downstream, causing the antagonists bad luck themselves, saving the day.

Yes, I'm serious.

Seeing as this would be a disaster on wheels (or on a raft, whatever), I decided to change it to a Disney story with Brer Rabbit as Jim and the Hitchhiking Ghosts as the flat-out bad guys for a change, as the King and Duke.

Well, I couldn't think of a good Huck, for one thing, and I just didn't think it would work. So all that's left of the parody is the Ghosts and Brer Rabbit on a raft, singing "Sun Goes Down in the South."

That's called progress. I think.