Chapter Two: The Happiest Place on Earth

Michael E. Eisner sat in his office in Disneyworld, leafing through a financial report and trying to restrain his urge to kill. Walt's massive financial empire was in the crapper again. Home on the Range had sold like a Thai hooker with an Adam's apple. The religious right was pissed off with him again because Minnie Mouse's Illustrated Human Biology for Kids had a Kama Sutra pull-out chart. Damn fascist southern Baptists.

"Hmm…" he thought, "'Fascist Baptists.' I should write that down, it kind of rhymes. Maybe the songwriters could use it in our next musical." Then, he shook his head, as if clearing it. Those people were already on the verge of declaring Mickey Mouse the Antichrist.

Leaning back in his padded ergonomic chair, he began to reflect on the company's woeful financial state and who he would shift the blame to. First, he considered President Bush, but everyone seemed to be doing that lately. Next, he considered America's youth, who were too busy watching MTV and getting pregnant to enjoy quality family entertainment. But even promiscuous children seemed like a hollow excuse. Standing up with a sigh, he walked over to the windows which overlooked the happiest place on earth, hoping to borrow just a little of that joy.

Suddenly, it hit him. He would blame his employees! It seemed logical, as they had recently gone on strike. In fact, they were conducting a protest march out there right now, waving pitchforks and setting things aflame. He waved at Ted-from-Accounting, who was leading them all in a round of The Internationale:

"Arise ye workers from your slumbers
Arise ye prisoners of want
For reason in revolt now thunders
And at last ends the age of cant."

Down on the ground, the assembled masses were joined by a group of irate animators and the janitorial staff. If the Legal Department, costumed mascots, and Division for Unethical Bioengineering would join them, they would have a full showing of the proletariat. A feeling of beautiful unity gripped them and they joined hands.

"Away with all your superstitions
Servile masses arise, arise
We'll change henceforth the old tradition
And spurn the dust to win the prize."

Ted-from-Accounting wiped a tear from his eye. He wished his dead hippie momma could see him now. If this wasn't sticking it to the man, he didn't know what was. All around him, the Marketing Department was plastering giant posters of Engles, Marx, and Lenin over the smiling pictures of Disney characters.

But then, a wave of silence fell over the assembly. Two god-like figures cut straight through the workers and to the front of the crowd. Whispers of worry shot through the gathering like an enema moving through an impacted colon. The first figure waved his hands for silence and addressed the crowd.

"Well, gwarsh, there sure are a lot of you folks out here today," he said, scratching his head absentmindedly, "Too bad you want to destroy the borsch wand." His partner leaned in and whispered something in his ear. "Oh, sorry. What I meant to say was 'bourgeois.'"

"No," said his partner, "What you meant to say was 'EAT ELECTRIC DEATH, YOU PINKO BASTARDS!'" And with that, he lifted his wand and unleashed Thundaga on the blythe revolution, causing the united comrades to scream in one voice of terrible agony. A few eyeballs exploded and the air was filled the distinct smell of roast pork. After what seemed like an eternity of pain, the spell ended and they sank to the ground, some dead and most longing for sweet, low-carb oblivion.

Eisner opened his window and gave Goofy and Donald Duck a thumbs-up. "Thanks boys!" he shouted, "Oh, can you make sure that Ted-from-Accounting's body is defiled by wild dogs?"

"Can do!" said Donald, giving back the thumbs up.

The windows snapped shut and Eisner smiled. Nothing made him happier than crushing the masses.

"Fucking prick," said Donald, retracting his thumb and extending a middle finger towards his corporate master. He pulled a pack of cigarettes from his back pocket and lit one up, casually flinging the still-burning match onto a dying soul's face.

Goofy walked through the moaning wage slaves, giving help where he could. Coming upon a battered boy from the Child Sweatshop Labor division, Goofy took out a Potion and offered it to him. But the boy stoically lifted a hand to stop him.

"Don't you wanna re-grow your skin? Hyuck!"

The boy looked up at Goofy with his one eye that hadn't fused shut and croaked the song's chorus though his cracked and bleeding lips:

"So (moan) comrades, (COUGH! HACK!) come rally
And the (gurgle) last fight let us face
The Interna(gag)tionale unites the (groan) human race."

Donald walked over and shook his head. "Forget these morons, Goofy. There's crullers in the break room."

"Donald, why do we have to be so mean to the pinkos?" said Goofy.

"Because they're the enemies of the Company. If the fuckers had their way, we'd all be out of a job."

"But the Company does a lot of mean things to them. Don't they just wanna be free? Is that bad?"

"Yeah, that's a great idea. Shit, let's dissolve the Company. Don't you know what happens when a corporation breaks up?"

"Well, gwarsh, no."

Donald sighed. "The Heartless take it over. You know, those weird-looking demon-thingies? Everything we hold dear would fall into the darkness and be lost forever. That's why we put up with the Company's bullshit – the alternative is total annihilation."

"Where do those guys come from anyway?"

"Do you even know what Disney does? We make movies and TV shows for the World of Darkness."

"Uh, you mean, 'Earth?'"

"Yeah, Earth. Without our products to distract them, the earthers become Heartless. Apparently, their lives are so meaningless that they give into despair and lose their hearts. Then, they come to our worlds."

"That doesn't sound too good, Donald."

"No, my dimwitted friend, it isn't good at all. Now come on, I want my damn cruller."

The two friends sighed and walked off to find sugary respite from the stench of burning flesh. Inside the break room, they found Minnie and Daisy flipping through old issues of Vogue and killing off a six-pack of Bud Light.

"G'morning, ladies!" said Goofy, waving a friendly wave.

"Hey Goofy," said Minnie, "CEO Mickey told me he wants to see you two guys in the executive boardroom for a minute, and he looked pissed. You guys better get up there before he puts you in a direct-to-video sequel or something."

Goofy swallowed hard. Mickey could be such a bastard sometimes. Ever since Walt disappeared, it was like he had a hoard of invincible magic broomsticks up his ass.

"Donald, we better get goin'!" yelped Goofy, only to see his buddy getting hell from Daisy.

"What, now you go on the break again? I stay at home, I work my fingers to the bone, and all that you should sit here eating bagels and lox? You want I should die? You will be the death of me, you will!"

Donald sighed. His mother told him to marry a nice Catholic duck, but nooo…

"Come on Goof; let's go see what CEO Mickey wants. Walt knows it can't be any worse than what this woman will do to me."

"You shut your filthy goyum mouth, Donald!" snapped Daisy.

Donald and Goofy ran to the boardroom to see the CEO, tails between their legs.

Author's Notes:

Update day is Friday! Yay!

This chapter was actually a fairly late addition. But Goofy and Donald never get as much screen time in fan fictions as they deserve. I mean, hell, they're in pretty much all of the game...

At least there aren't a lot of Goofy/Donald slash fics. That would be really, really creepy.

Deleted Scenes:

Originally, each chapter was going to have an obscure mystical saying in it. These were dropped because they, in my co-author's words, 'sucked.' But, I've decided to put them here in the author's notes, 'cause I can. :p

(From Part One) - The Heart is a strange thing, who can say they understand it? Out of the same Heart comes both blessing and curses, hope and fear, love and hate. If our own Hearts are so foreign to us, how can we understand the Heart of another? Yet, even though we do not know each other's Hearts as such, they can be joined with bonds so strong they cannot be broken.

(From Part Two) - There are those, young one, who would steal your Heart from you, but you must guard it from them jealously. What will you give in exchange for it? What price is high enough to dwell in eternal darkness?

The rest will be put up with their chapters.

Next Time:

Part Three: What Infomercials May Come