July 28, 1955. Disneyland City.

Disneyland City was a commercial success. The world's first planned,
themed amusement-oriented city for all ages had excited people around
the world, and the presence of superheroes had only fueled that
excitement -- consequently bringing regular tourists from all corners
of the globe. A million people a day crowded into Disneyland City.

One such couple was an emaculately dressed, handsome man of about 50
years old with an equally beautiful and fashionable woman of the same
age on his arm. The couple drew smiles of approval from all they
passed and many a shopowner had been charmed by their English accents
and impeccable manners. They had already been through Adventureland,
Frontierland, and Fantasyland. They stood now at the north end of
Main Street, resting and examining their map of the city.

"What do you want to see now, my dear?" the man asked.

"Simon," she said, "don't you want to see the Superhero Clubhouse in
Tomorrowland?"

"We could take the tour if you like, but I know how much you enjoyed
the Jungle Cruise. Heading into Tomorrowland takes us away from
that..."

"That's not what I meant, dear. Why don't you go into the clubhouse
and introduce yourself?"

"Oh, my dear Patricia, I suspect even my adventure last month in
Jamaica passed under the radar of the American superheroes. Besides,
I am quite content to play tourist and just enjoy a little peace and
quiet."

As if on cue, the two heard a loud commotion coming from Frontierland.

"Peace and quiet, darling?"

"Well, we shall see..."

A block west and a half-block north, the couple found themselves
outside a recently-opened car shop with a faux-frontier fort front on
it. Nothing about the store itself, Simon Templar suspected, had
attracted the large crowd in front of it. He politely excused his way
to the front of the crowd with his wife, Patricia Templar, in tow.
The sight that awaited them was indeed remarkable. There was a
crudely assembled airplane -- spare car parts mixed inside a long
wooden crate -- with some tools and extra parts laying around it.
Running around, putting the finishing touches on this plane was a
character Simon had only read about existing -- the real, live Mickey
Mouse that had just recently surfaced in Disneyland City. The
impossibly thin, colorless mouse stopped to examine an open book on
the ground and then took to hammering the plane some more.

Simon looked around and spotted a mechanic from the garage standing
near the crowd. Simon caught the man's attention and approached him.

"Pardon me," Simon said, "but was this a scheduled event?"

"Ha, no," the mechanic responded. "Mickey Mouse just showed up almost
an hour ago and started raiding my store for parts and tools. No, I
didn't try to stop him. Mickey Mouse is good for business. Did you
hear about the Main Street Confectionary that sold out of its stock
in an hour after the mouse was seen inside, scarfing down fudge?
Besides, he hasn't broken anything. I figure he'll give up and leave
soon and I can bring everything back inside, or maybe just sell it..."

The mechanic's words tapered off at the sound of a small engine
revving. The improvised plane rattled and shook, but otherwise
appeared fully functional.

"No way is that possible," the mechanic said, half to himself. He
stared in amazement and added, "he doesn't even have a complete
engine in there..."

Simon thought it futile to debate the possibility of it, so he
instead urged the crowd to back away from the front of the plane.
Sure enough, Mickey Mouse hopped inside, threw a lever, and the plane
began to roll forward. Mickey remained oblivious to the crowd of
onlookers who stood gawking so long that some of them were in danger
of being hit by the propeller as the plane rolled forward faster.

"Simon!" Patricia called out. She approached him, holding the book
Mickey Mouse had been examining. "This book, it's a biography of
Charles Lindbergh. Not an instruction manual of any kind."

"That's right," a nearby man said, chuckling loudly. The man wore a
Mickey Mouse cap, a shirt with palm trees on it, and shorts. He was
short and overweight -- striking contrast to the Templars -- yet they
turned and hung attentive ears to what he said next. "Plane Crazy
started the very same way. That was the first Mickey Mouse cartoon
you know. Steamboat Willie was released first, but Plane Crazy had
been finished six months earlier."

"Was anyone hurt in the cartoon?" Simon asked.

"No...just some animals. The part where Mickey's about to fall out of
the plane and grabs the cow by the udders -- that's my favorite
part!" the man laughed hard while remembering it.

"Oh dear..." Patricia said. "At least, I don't suppose there are many
cows in Disneyland City..."

Simon paused, considering their options. At last he said, "Come. We
will inform the authorities of what we know."

"And then what?"

"Hope for the best. There is much to this event that makes no sense
at all. I hope others will be able to piece this mystery together.
But...not us," he said. He stared skyward, but the concern on his
brow melted and turned to a smile. He looked to his wife. "Not today.
We're on holiday."