At long last, the Disney Crossover! And not just ANY Disney crossover- THE PARENT TRAP!
I'm afraid I don't know who owns the cover photo, but whoever you are, you've inspired me greatly, and hopefully made fans worldwide very pleased.
These chapters will be around the same length as Freedom Phantom, though the updates will be less regular. I'm shooting for every two weeks on Saturdays, but again we'll see how that goes ^^'.
TERRIBLY SORRY EVERYONE, I'VE GOT SOME BAD NEWS. THE FLASHDRIVE WHERE I SAVED ALL MY WORK IS MISSING. I'M AFRAID PARENT TRAPTALIA WILL BE ON A TEMPORARY HIATUS UNTIL EITHER IT IS FOUND AGAIN OR I FIND MY ORIGINAL PLANS FOR THE STORY.
AMELIA
It was the first day of summer camp! And by 'first day,' I mean 'first day.' Really. Twelve years old and I'd never been to a summer camp before. Much less a fancy, international, all-girls camp out in the boonies of Colorado. I'd also never been away from my dad for two whole months before. But I wanted to prove that I was a strong, independent woman, and not a little girl anymore. I was a bit nervous to be honest, but I thought it'd be all right. After all, I'm great at making friends. I, Amelia E. Jones, can make friends with anyone!
…Or so I thought.
"Hey! Watch where you're going!" a girl cried. I snapped out of my heroic thoughts and realized that I'd totally crashed into someone's suitcase. Just wonderful.
"Oh, sorry about that, dude! Didn't see you there! Let me help you with-" but then I saw the girl I ran into. Her face was exactly like mine. Literally. Down to the cheekbones, nose shape, slightly bushy eyebrows, and even eye color! Seriously, like, how is it possible that someone else has blue-green eyes EXACTLY like mine?
Well, after that we had to go to the orientation breakfast and do roll call, so I didn't even get a chance to ask her name. Turns out it was only a matter of time.
About two weeks in, we were doing a fencing activity, and low and behold, there she was. Yeah, she had glasses and super long hair, but she totally stole my face. Being the heroine, I decided to give her the benefit of the doubt and ask her about it when she was my partner.
"Hey, so that face of yours is pretty sweet. You wouldn't have happened to have stolen it, would you?" I asked politely. She raised an eyebrow at me in confusion.
"Um, I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about. You do realize biology doesn't work like that, right?" I sighed. She seemed pretty smart, with the whole glasses thing going and that obvious British accent, but it looked like she wasn't quite up to par with my intelligence.
"Well, duh! I was just making a joke! Don't you know what a joke is?" She turned bright red and started sputtering nonsense. Heh. Got her.
"O-of course I do! And I knew that! I was just… making sure that your mind was sharp for fencing! I wouldn't want a dull-witted opponent," she snapped. I didn't like the way she called me dull-witted. I wasn't exactly sure what it meant, but I'd heard it before in movies, and it was always a bad thing. I couldn't think of a good comeback right away, so I let it slide as we bowed and began our match. I was pleasantly surprised at her skills. We were pretty evenly matched, blocking or dodging all blows. I smirked playfully.
"Hey, you're pretty good! For a Brit."
"Oh? What's that supposed to mean?"
"Nothin, nothin! I was just sayin I didn't expect anyone to match my fencing skills! Much less from England."
"Hmph. Well, I for one am disappointed. Is this really the best you can do?" I was a little annoyed before, but now I was really starting to get ticked off.
"Oh, just you wait!" I cried, lunging at her. She dodged, but just barely.
"It really is a shame that someone with a face so similar to mine is so atrociously bad at such a simple sport." Okay, I'll admit I had no idea what 'atrociously' meant. But I knew that, whatever it was, it was not a compliment.
"Look here, missy. I think you'll find that I'm matching you blow-for-blow!"
"Hm. For now. Honestly, is this really the best America has to offer? I was hoping to find a more challenging opponent over here. I suppose such talent from such a savage nation really is too much to ask for. What a shame," she spouted in her little self-contented, arrogant way. It made my blood boil.
"That is IT!" I cried, lunging at her once again with even more rage. How dare she say those things! "It was bad enough when you were insulting me, but I will NOT let you insult the great United States!"
"Great? I was under the impression that it was a ruthless, distasteful piece of land."
"You shut your gaudy little mouth! America is a wonderful country full of cultural diversity and brave heroes! I bet England is full of potty-mouthed, lying savages!"
"You sodding wanker!"
"You frickin douchebag!"
"Bloody twit!"
"Dirty rat!"
"Stupid Yank!"
"Damn Limey!"
"Canker blossom!" At this I stopped. I'd heard all the other insults before, but this one was new.
"What?" I asked, lowering my sword. She jumped and quickly glanced around and for the first time I noticed we'd attracted a little audience.
"I- I mean-" she sputtered, also lowering her sword. She kept sputtering for a little bit before I realized it was the perfect opportunity to strike.
"HaHA!" I lunged forward, and this time I knocked her flat on the ground. She winced and muttered another weird swear word.
"Oh, bollocks." She snapped her head up and glared at me, but I glared right back.
"The *ahem* obscene match between Amelia Jones and Alice Kirkland has concluded. Amelia is the winner!" declared the camp guide. Many of the girls around the circle started to cheer - potential friends.
"Heck yeah I'm the winner!" I exclaimed, doing a heroic fist pump into the air. As the girls surrounded me, I looked over at my enemy, who was eerily smiling at me. Alice Kirkland. Now that she was my arch nemesis, I'd have to remember her name. I gave her my smug hero grin, and went to bed that day victorious.
ALICE
I finally survived my first day at a summer camp. And I do mean first. First time in America, first time at an international, all-girls facility. And goodness was it frustrating.
To begin: the good news. I made a new friend, Sakura, a lovely 11-year-old from Japan. She's a year younger than I am, and incredibly quiet, but still very polite and companionable. And this is where the good news ends. I met the horrible, unspeakably rude vermin Amelia Jones. She had the gall to insult my home country, so of course I was not going to let that stand. The insults got more and more heated until eventually she cheated and bested whilst I was not looking.
Many of the other girls immediately flocked to her. I'm not surprised, honestly. It is said that sheep favour steadier shepherds. I rubbed my sore bum as Sakura knelt down beside me in concern.
"Are you all right?" she asked. I nodded with gritted teeth. As I slowly stood, I glared over at the American twat. Sakura sent me another troubled glance, so I turned and met her eyes reassuringly.
"Don't worry, Sakura. Victory is sweet," - I turned and locked eyes with the twat once more – "But revenge is sweeter."
And sweet revenge I did plot. The following week, there was a dance with the neighboring all-boys camp, and a certain self-proclaimed heroine was going to attend. I've always had little interest in large social gatherings, but the dance would be the perfect time to sabotage her.
I stayed just outside and underneath a low-hanging balcony, waiting for my prey. Sure enough, she and a decent-looking Asian boy walked out to the balcony together. The twat was wearing a knee-length light blue dress, which would be perfect for my plan.
The Asian boy left with the promise of returning bearing drinks. The twat leaned against the balcony, staring back into the dance room. I smirked, pulled out a pair of scissors, and set to work.
Quickly and carefully, I cut out a large square from the back of the dress, perfectly exposing her white underwear. She didn't even notice.
Finally when the boy returned, I sprung up from my hiding place and pointed at her accusingly.
"This is what you get, Jones! No one insults my homeland and gets away with it!"
This attracted attention from nearly everyone present; an audience quickly flocked to the scene. The twat stared at me in confusion for a bit, then suddenly grabbed her rear. Her eyes widened in understanding, and her face reddened in embarrassment. A few giggled could be heard from the crowd, but that was not nearly satisfying enough.
"Well, you look at that. Red face, white underwear, and a blue dress? Red, white, and blue! Why, you're the spitting image of America the beautiful!" The crowd burst into laughter, making other appropriate jokes. And by appropriate, I mean clever and fitting. Almost all of the jokes were innuendos.
"Screw you, Kirkland!" She cried, and she ran off to the bathrooms. I'd be lying if I said I didn't feel a tiny twinge of regret, but she certainly deserved it.
AMELIA
Stupid Kirkland! Stupid dress! Stupid dance! Stupid England! Stupid, stupid, stupid!
After a little bit, I heard a knock on the door.
"Go away," I muttered, but the door creaked open and I saw Maddie, a Canadian girl who was really quiet but seemed otherwise nice. She smiled sadly and offered me a box of tissues. I sniffed, but just once excuse you because heroines don't cry a lot, and tore into the box. Maddie then handed me a bathrobe, to cover the bare spot in my dress.
"I saw what happened out there, and at the fencing match. Kind of a rough rivalry you two've got going, eh?" I nodded, and blew my nose.
"It's not fair! How come she can be all sneaky and do stuff without me even noticing?!"
"It's all aboot staying calm and quiet. Trust me, I've been in plenty of situations where people don't notice me. Sometimes it gets so bad I wish I could get back at them, you know?" As I processed Maddie's words, an idea slowly came to me. The gears in my heroic mind turned, as I realized I needed to get revenge against my nemesis.
"Then I've got a great idea. Come on, Maddie. Let's get back at those jerks for not noticing you. And at Kirkland, the nasty douche."
"W-wait! Amelia! What are we going to do?!"
"Oh, nothing dangerous or life-threatening. Just a little T.P action. This is gonna be great!"
It took the whole night and plenty of generous volunteers, but eventually we had the perfect booby trap system set up. Miss High-and-Mighty would be totally disgusted. Perfection. The last thing I did before closing the door to the genius system was whisper:
"God save the Queen."
ALICE
I awoke the next morning to a disaster. It was utterly horrific, and rather traumatic. Paint, mud, dirt, rocks, toilet paper, maple syrup, and a cast of other revolting substances strewn everywhere around the cabin. My other cabin mates made similar cries of disgust; one girl covered head-to-toe in syrup seemed particularly distraught. Without even having to think, I knew exactly who the culprit was.
"JONES! You are the most vicious, unbelievable, deceitful, arrogant, impish, immature, self-centered brat to ever walk the planet!" It very well may have been my imagination, but from outside the cabin, I could almost make out an Elvis impersonation of 'Thank you, thank you very much.'
"Cabin Inspections! Clean up now or you'll be staying late to clean after lunch!" My blood ran cold. If they walked in, there was no way the camp managers would ever let this slide. Worst of all, little Miss Jones would get off scotch free while we would be forced to janitor the cafeteria. Luckily, just as the guide was about to enter the room, the lady of the hour sidled in front of the door and refused to let the guide enter.
"H-hey, there! Trust me when I say you do NOT want to go in there. It's like, REALLY bad. There's a girl who's sick and like super contagious." The guide gave her a look of puzzlement, as did I and many of my cabin mates. Ignoring Jones' warning, the guide reached for the door handle and almost yanked it open, causing a creaking sound from above. That's when I looked up and saw a large paint bucket filled with a putrid brown substance, delicately teetering above the guide's head. If she had opened the door, she'd have been covered in it. An idea came to me.
"Oh, no, ma'am, it's really quite all right in here. Everyone's fine. Unless… Amelia Jones knows something we don't?" She whipped her head around and glared at me through the screen window, and I merely gave her a shrug. Serves her right.
The camp guide once more reached for the door, and this time thrust it open and poured the entire container of liquid on herself. Blinded by the gooey substance, she stumbled into the room and promptly slipped on the syrup covering the floor, sliding all the way down the length of the cabin and crashing into a stack of pillows which all had loose feathers now stuck to her. She sputtered quite a bit before having a moment of clarity and realized who the culprit was.
"Jones!" she spat, wiping a feather from her eye. The girl in question flinched.
"Kirkland!" At this I stopped. I was being punished too? But I did nothing wrong! Well, certainly I did cause a scene back at the fencing arena. And I suppose I did cause a ruckus at the dance. But it wasn't my fault she retaliated with this mess! It's all right though. My punishment can't be that bad.
"Isolation Cabin!"
Turns out I was wrong. Bollocks.
Rainbow's Thought Volcano: The pranks they pull were inspired both by the original and the remake. I was originally also going to do the poker game, but decided to cut it for time restraints. It's going to be a little bit before the USUK actually shows up, so you'll all have to bear with me until around chapter 4 or so when things start to get interesting.