Not wanting to be the lone downer, John Smith had managed to put on a fine show of congratulations towards Belle and Adam, and anyone who noticed any reservations in him chalked it up to an Anglo-Saxon stiff upper lip. In reality, he was going mad with jealousy. "Oh isn't that nice," sneered an angry voice in his head as he regarded Beauty and the Beast, and the smiling couples all around him. Kocoum, like him, was unclaimed, but he was somewhere talking tactics with Shang and Mulan and oh, what did he care, he was dead inside anyway, not to mention dead outside. And it was worse for him, John, anyway, because his one true love was right here in the room and… he made the mistake of looking over at her, still at the bar, still working on that third drink, getting ever cozier with Captain Jack Wanker. Not that he cared. Not that he cared that it looked like they were leaning in for a kiss…

The next thing Smith knew, he was by the bar, Sparrow was lying at his feet, and Pocahontas was yelling at him. Smith collected himself and turned to face her. "Could you start from the beginning? I'm afraid I was in a blind rage and missed everything you said."

Pocahontas huffed. Her hair was coming undone and her eyes were swimming and unfocussed. "You're a jackass."

"Fine," said Smith, and leaned in. She turned away. "Fine," he repeated, and kissed her cheek. When he turned to leave, Sparrow was blocking his path.

"If I may," he slurred, "she did say she was single, mate. By the way, if you ever get tired of systematic genocide, do give me a call. I could use you for my crew. Here's my card."

"This is a napkin," said Smith (it was), and stormed out. Sparrow resumed his place on the barstool.

"Well, now that we're rid of him…"

"Go away," said Pocahontas dully.

"Come now, my peach…"

"Go away or I'll sic a raccoon on you."

Sparrow halted. "A rabid raccoon?"

"Worse. Trained." Sparrow bolted. Pocahontas slumped over the bar.

Meg had watched the whole thing from across the room, and she knew what needed to be done. She pecked Hercules on the cheek. "Can you get along without me for an indeterminate length of time?" He shrugged, and she went off to round up a girl posse. Half a minute later, they joined Pocahontas at the bar and circled her, forming a barricade against the curious onlookers. Pocahontas looked up at them with sad and drunk eyes. "I feel…" She hesitated.

"It's called a drunken rant," said Meg. "Let loose, honey."

And she did.

After what seemed like hours of trying to edge Evafta security out of the door, they finally complied, and Deminda slumped against the wall with relief. The two successive incidents of violence had pulled her rudely into sobriety. By chance, she'd ended up once again very close to Menken and Ross, who were watching her. "Rough night?" asked Rich Ross.

Deminda chuckled dryly. "Mr. Ross, I know I don't report directly to you, but, well, since you're here, could I have your permission to kick Gaston out of the competition? Everyone hates him, he's not going to win, he's causing me a huge headache, and I have it on good authority he very nearly murdered Nala…"

Ross considered it. "Hm. What do you think, Alan?"

"Fat chance," said Menken. "He's the antagonist of this whole competition, and you're nowhere near the climax yet."

"You mean it's going to get worse?" said Deminda dully.

"Indubitably."

"Fantastic." Deminda laughed. "Wow. It's hard to believe, only twenty minutes ago I was standing here happily pitching my Latina princess idea…" her smile slid off her face as the sentence came to an end. "…Shit."

Menken and Ross were sniggering. "It was a very good idea," said Ross diplomatically.

"I especially liked the part about Carlos Santana doing the music," said Menken. Deminda buried her face in her hands. "No! It really was a good idea," he emphasized, trying for gravity. "You were right, it would definitely 'attract the 35-to-50-year-old male demographic'…" And then Ross and Menken couldn't keep the giggles at bay. Deminda blushed and sighed.

It was hard to believe this was Pocahontas' first drunken rant – she was so good at it, no end in sight. "Because... and I'm having this," she slurred, grabbing at a shooter. Jasmine tsked.

"Oh, honey, I'm not so sure-"

"Can it, midriff. As I was saying, because of my extreme shupidity brought on by a chil'hood of privilege. I'm a big dumb ho." She took the shot (drink four) and shuddered all over. Then she started to gag.

"Ok, you're ok," said Meg, slipping her arm around her shoulder. "Do you want to come with me to the ladies?"

"I'm fine," said Pocahontas, shrugging her off. "I don't have to pee."

"That's all right, you don't have to."

"Good, because I... because I..." Heavily, she spun herself 180 degrees on the barstool, balanced her elbows on her knees, and began to spew. Meg cursed and cleared Pocahontas' hair away. The mess looked extraordinarily voluminous, which terrified Meg, until she realized that it only looked thus because it was born by a pair of bare men's feet. Both Meg and Pocahontas followed the line of his body up to his face.

"Not another one," muttered Pocahontas.

Meg tried an apologetic smile. "Sorry about this. Let me buy you a drink."

"Don't you think you've bought enough drinks tonight?" Kocoum scooped Pocahontas up into his arms, with Meg protesting weakly that she'd only had four, and strode out of the ballroom, leaving pukey footprints across the tiles.

"Sorry I'm so fat," Pocahontas muttered.

"What are you talking about?"

"Sorry I'm so heavy."

"...You're not."

"I'm a big fat fatty."

"Shh."

"No problem, Miss O'Kelly," an Evafta night manager was saying. "Everything will be taken care of."

"Thhhhhank you," Deminda breathed, her eyelids fluttering shut even as she spoke, and dragged herself off to where Julea was chatting coquettishly with Quasi. "Babysis, Imma head. You staying?"

"…Oh…" It was clear that Julea didn't feel all that comfortable sticking around without Deminda there, but she hated to leave Quasi.

Quasi looked disappointed too, but he was selfless as ever. "Will I see you tomorrow night?" he asked, choosing his wording very carefully.

"You will," said Julea. "After you win," she added in a surprisingly sultry whisper. She winked.

Deminda was mildly scandalized. "Hoookay. I'm going to walk this way," she declared. "Nighty-night, all."

There was a chorus of good-nights from the remaining competitors, and a lot of grins in Julea's direction as she followed her sister out the door, followed by a lot of congratulatory slaps on Quasi's back. Quasi rolled his eyes – "Guys, we just met" – but he couldn't hide the giant smile on his face, and he sat in happy contemplation while everyone dispersed either to the bar or the floor.

Somewhere across the room, freed from the constraints of the terrible animation house that created her, Quasi's intended ladyfriend Madellaine was currently all over Jack Sparrow, vehemently agreeing to his every suggestion for their night's itinerary. Eh… you could take the girl out of the carnival, but you couldn't take the carnival out of the girl.

Smith charged down the hall like a man possessed. A young fan giggled and called his name as he passed; he snarled at her and immediately felt guilty. He kicked the first room service tray he came across, which made him feel a little better.

"How do I get this damn thing to work," he muttered under his breath as he turned on the TV in his hotel room. "Movies, 6… all right… Disney, 3… ok… theatrical releases, Disney channel, sneak peeks… Aha, 'Direct-to-video'. Where are you, you bastard… there you are. Ohhh yes, you little shitquel, come here, come to your papa's male protagonist… Play." He pressed down on the little "Enter" button as though triggering a doomsday device… and in his own mind, he was absolutely doing exactly that.

For John Smith's goal was to not only watch the sequel, but to… oh horror of horrors… be ok with it.

Back in his room (Aladdin was still out), Kocoum laid Pocahontas gently down on the bathroom floor and helped her get up over the toilet. "Do you still feel ill?"

"Yeah..." Kocoum pulled her hair back. She sat there for about five minutes just staring at the water, gagging occasionally, until finally she jammed a few fingers down her throat and brought up another load. Kocoum cried out in surprise.

"Wasn't gonna happen otherwise," she explained when she had finished.

"So?"

"I feel much better now." She did, he could tell, although she was still shitfaced.

"Here, use this extra toothbrush." Kocoum flushed the toilet and put the seat down for her to sit on.

She started to cry even as she brushed her teeth. He let her, because he couldn't think of anything else to do, and perched on the lip of the bathtub to wash his feet. She rinsed, spat, and wiped her eyes. "This is so embarrassing."

"Why did you let them liquor you up? You're not used to it, you know that."

"They didn't let me do anything. Or I didn't let them... I mean I needed to forget... about..."

"Did you?"

"No," she said irritably. She swayed and put a hand to her head.

"Come on, let's get you to bed." He took her by the hand and she leaned against him all the way across the room.

"Why are you helping me?"

"Because you need my help."

"But why are you being so nice to me?" She started to cry again. "I'm sorry I got you killed."

"That's... all right."

"No it's not." She snuggled down into the covers and kept a vice on Kocoum's wrist when he tried to pull away. "I'm really, really sorry. It makes me wish I never met John Smith."

"Really?"

"Well... if I never... met him... I would never... loved him... so it wouldn't matter." She started to cry again but did a good job of hiding it. "And then there would never have been a battle."

"I think there would definitely have been a battle... I probably would have led it. And we would have all died. Those 'gun' things... they hurt."

"Awwwwww, you're trying to make me feel better. It's ok. I'm a big fat bitch ho."

"I think you need to sleep."

"Aren't you going to lie down?"

"I'll sleep on the floor tonight."

"Nonono, I'll sleep on the floor." She threw the sheet back and tried to sit up, but Kocoum stopped her. "I won't let you sleep on the floor. 'S not my bed."

"I'll be fine."

"No. I won't take your bed away from you too." She was crying again. "I already took your life."

"Ok, ok, I'll lie down." He stretched tensely out next to her and tried to take his wrist back, but she wouldn't give it up. "Just stay on your side," he cautioned, "In case you need to vomit again."

"'S all good, I got it all up."

"Erm... good."

"Good night, Kocoum. You're so good. You're like my brother."

"Thank... thank you?"

"You're just... too... serious..."

And then she was asleep. Kocoum considered pulling his hand away, but she was still shuddering from having been crying, and he was overwhelmed with pity. She was good through and through, and he could easily write off her behavior on alcohol, that evil crap. Also he could take better care of her on the bed than on the floor. Also he, socially retarded though he was, could read between the lines well enough to tell that she really didn't need to feel abandoned at this point. Also he couldn't help but be a little bit proud that he was doing better by her right now than those English bastards (but of course he could also admit that anyone would act like them when faced with this sort of situation, even him).

He had to admit, there was a lot of hair in that bed right then. Maybe that's why she thought Smith was a better fit for her.

So Kocoum and Smith were both settled (in a manner of speaking) into their own rooms. Hercules and Shang, athlete and warrior that they were, were both determined to sleep apart from their ladies on the night before the final day of competition. However, upon seeing his ashen-faced roommate staring blankly at the blaring television, Hercules immediately turned on his heel and made off towards Meg's room – he was no good at dealing with sad drunks. Ariel and Jane had a proper Jacuzzi in their room, so Jane, who was aware of her roommate's proclivity for water, kindly offered to spend the night in Tarzan's room. Simba and Nala returned to the nice cozy thicket where they'd made their bed the night before, and Adam agreed to join Belle in her and Nala's much better-smelling room. Aladdin's reluctance to sleep in his room with scary Kocoum in the next bed was obvious to everyone, so Esmeralda and Mulan (who were sharing a 3-bed suite with Jasmine) graciously offered him the couch in their room, which Aladdin took with not enough reticence to satisfy Shang. (Phoebus, however, was about as worried about Aladdin as he was about Clopin.) Nobody would let Phoebus sleep in his own bed (obviously, what with his roommate's recent behaviour), but since Adam and Simba were both sleeping elsewhere, they offered him their room, and he was able to enjoy the privacy of his own room for basically the first time since he ditched his Captain's post.

While this grand room-swap conference was going on (in an Evafta board room, at two in the morning, drunk, and with Phoebus trying to map it out on the whiteboard like a military maneuver), Gaston was pounding on a hotel room door, the number of which Clayton had scrawled on his hand that morning. Slick-talking Hades let him in with a plea to keep his voice down, and it wasn't hard to see why: the room had only become steadily more trashed as the evening had progressed, and it seemed like Hades had only just been able to get everyone to sleep (or unconscious, whichever worked). The two beds were each occupied very awkwardly by one thin man and one large man: Frollo and Ratcliffe in one, Clayton and Jafar in the other, separated not by pillows as is the norm for reluctant bed mates, but magically-conjured barriers of literal fire. Shan Yu was passed out behind a cage of white lightning, having been sentenced to a "penalty box" (as it were) for his frequent fight-picking – he seemed to have been rendered unconscious, but really he'd just snarled himself to sleep. "It was really kinda cute," said Hades. Scar was literally muzzled and chained to a bedpost, one of Clayton's tranquilizer darts still lodged in his left shoulder. Ursula was snoozing in the bathtub. Hades didn't sleep.

"So what can I do for ya?" he whispered.

At full voice, Gaston stated, "I'm in."

"Ok, ok, appreciate the gusto, but Shhhh," implored Hades, as the room erupted in startled snores.

"I'm taking ownership of this operation," he continued, ignoring Hades completely. "I am embracing my villainy!"

Realizing he was still trapped, Shan Yu roared and shook the crackling bars, which woke up the men in the beds with starts, which caused them to burn themselves on the fire barriers. From the bathroom, Ursula began hollering, "What is going on out there? Somebody get in here and help me out of the bath! At once, you hear me?"

Hades turned bright orange with rage. "I SUPPOSE YOU'RE GONNA GET 'EM ALL QUIETED DOWN AGAIN, EH, MR. ENTHUSIASM?"

Gaston stepped away and raised his arms. "My fellow villains! Show me your plan!"

A wet thud in the bathroom alerted them all to the fact that Ursula had gotten herself out of the tub. Disgusting smacking noises of her suction cups against the tiles made everyone recoil away from the bathroom door, uniting the warring villains briefly in revulsion. Ursula finally made it into the bedroom, still sporting a ghastly overnight mask and curlers, smiling wide enough to swallow a king crab. "Thought you'd never ask, dear boy. Someone pop in the DVD."

That job fell to Hades, since everyone was either too enraged, too bewildered, or too drugged (on Scar's part) to do as she said, and after a few minutes Hades had vanished Shan Yu's cage and everyone was listening intently for the hundredth time as an Ocean's Eleven-style montage of the Evafta Hotel, narrated by Ursula herself, began to play. "It starts, as you can see, in a very specific shower tomorrow morning…"

Hey Guys! Guess what? Guess what? I'll tell you what: remember that cute little "contest" I "announced" in an earlier "chapter"? About whoever guessed the origin of Deminda O'Kelly's name got a cameo in a later chapter? Loyal reviewer Larushka Evanovich has DONE IT! So she's getting a cameo at some point! And it'll be really cool!

You'll see. You'll ALL see.

-Curly