A/N: A brief look at the formulation of Maureen's protest. Mostly written in honor of Mickey Mouse's birthday, which is today. :)
Disclaimer: I do not own RENT, Nike, Coca-Cola, or Disney. I would be tremendously rich if I did.
Of Mice and Maureen
"I think I should stick a couple pop culture references in here somewhere," Maureen mused, tapping her pen against the pad of paper propped up against her knees. "What do you think, Elsie?" she asked the only thing on the top sheet—a crude drawing of a cow.
Joanne glanced over from her desk briefly, but went back to perusing her legal papers seconds later. She'd only been dating Maureen a month, but she was quickly becoming used to her girlfriend's odd moments.
"MOO!" Maureen suddenly yelled, looking delighted with herself. "MOO WITH ME!"
Joanne sighed and slowly put her pen down.
"Honeybear, I'm trying to get some work done," she pleaded.
Maureen pouted. "It's almost Christmas, work can wait. Come here, I need your help with the protest. What do you think about using dishes to symbolize the plight of the homeless?"
"Maureen—"
"Mark would help me," Maureen whined.
Joanne bristled. Whenever her partner wanted something, it was Mark-this and Mark-that. She had never met Maureen's ex-boyfriend, but she hated the guy anyway. Joanne was not a push-over.
Nevertheless, she obediently crossed the room and sat down resignedly.
"How can I help?"
Maureen squealed and threw her arms around Joanne's neck.
"Well, like I was saying, I need some reference to put in here—to show chaos, you know?"
Joanne didn't know, but she nodded anyway. Then shook her head.
"Um…why?"
Maureen rolled her eyes. "So I can connect to the audience, duh! And it would be good if it represented a big corporation, so it'd be, like, sticking it to the man or something. Like…" she wrinkled her nose, thinking. "Nike or…Coca-Cola!" She scribbled what might have been 'Diet Coke' under Elsie. "Because everyone's trying to lose weight and all."
None of this made any sense to Joanne, but she wanted to prove she could do better than Mark, so she racked her brains for an idea.
"How about Disney?"
Maureen frowned. "Ugh, don't get me started on them and their totally sexist view of princesses! And that mouse!"
"What's wrong with Mickey?" Joanne asked defensively.
"Oh my God, if I was him, I would have killed myself a long time ago!"
"Why?"
"Because he has such a high squeaky voice—I mean, do you know how many people make fun of it? And then—have you ever been to Disneyland?" Joanne's tight nod went unnoticed by Maureen, who plunged forward with her rant. "He stands outside all day in the hot sun, and he has to keep this big smile on and be all happy when he really must be pretty depressed. I would at least be homicidal by now!"
Joanne wondered if she should remind Maureen that the Mickey Mouse seen in the theme parks was only a person inside a costume.
She leaned forward. "Honeybear—"
"That's perfect!" Maureen suddenly squealed, sending Joanne rearing back. "Thanks so much! I know exactly what to say now!" And she planted a kiss firmly on the lawyer's lips before beginning to write in earnest, her mouth forming silent words as she transcribed them.
Bemused, Joanne returned to her desk, making a mental note to get rid of her old Mickey Mouse Club hat before Maureen found it.