"Wait," I told Mickey as he raised his hand again. "What are these `things' in the It's A Small World ride you were talking about?"

In response, he shouted, "I'll take you to meet them if you don't give me the answers I want!"

And that was explanatory as it got.

"All right, all right!" I cried as I was struck again. "I tell you every thing!"

The two stared at me expectantly.

I did my best impression of that character from Mad TV. "He...He look like a man."

"Do you like getting slapped?" Mickey said.

"I don't know," I said. "I am wearing a kinky bondage costume, but I'm really not feeling it right now."

He punched me in the stomach.

"What would people say if I told everyone about you locking children in a dungeon?" I threatened.

Mickey shrugged. "This isn't the corner drugstore, Ms...Whoever You Are."

"Buckthorn," I supplied.

"Whatever. The point is, it's just your word against mine, and we're a billion dollar company. We own every major media outlet. Any negative publicity you throw at us won't stick because we'll blanket the press with programming saying how great we are, and we'll keep blanketing it until your smear campaign goes bankrupt. The world will think it's all just a bunch of sour grapes. More money hungry schemers trying to bite a chunk out of the Disney empire. It's cute, in a pathetic sort of way."

I shook my head in disbelief. "Sounds like you've really thought this out. Who else have you given that speech to?"

The mouse gave me a thin smile. "Have you heard of Google?"

When I looked confused, he added, "You should try it sometime. Fascinating source of crackpot conspiracy theories."

I frowned.

"Now..." the mouse said. "Where were we?"

I heard a knock on the door, and the bulky dark haired woman came in, bearing an envelope. "Herr Mickey, sir! Important message from Friendship Ambassador Sleezington."

"Yes, yes," Mickey grumbled, ripping it open.

It was a piece of paper, folded over several times.

He scowled, spreading it out on the table.

All I saw was a circle, drawn by a ball point pen.

"What is this!" Mickey shouted, turning the paper around and around.

"Um, this is just a guess," I said. "But I think it's a concept design for a toy. `You know, for kids!'"

"What?" Mickey said with an expression of bafflement,.

"Hudsucker Proxy. Great movie. You should watch it sometime."

He glared at me for a moment, then his eyes widened in shock. "I never hired anyone named Sleezington!"

A slender hand shot out of the two dimensional circle, punching the mouse in the face.

A second later, I was being grabbed by the shoulders, then forcefully yanked facefirst into the paper.

I was human, so the only thing accomplished by the action was a lot of hurt.

"How is this possible!" Mickey yelled. "This room has cartoon power suppression fields!"

"Sir, forgive me for saying so," said Mr. Mascara. "But remember that line from Jurassic Park?"

Mickey rolled his eyes. "`Shit happens?'"

"No," said the man. "The other one. `Life finds a way.'"

"Because it's funny," Mickey muttered under his breath like he were swearing.

I didn't hear the rest of it, because the hands pulled me into the piece of paper again.

This time, my head didn't stop at the paper surface and/or table. I actually went through, into the two dimensional plane.

I blinked, I found myself being pulled onto a paved walkway near Journey Into Imagination. I could see the glass pyramids a few yards away, swarming with stupid tourists with too much money in their pockets. Behind us lay a lagoon.

I stared at my manner of transport, a piece of paper with glowing crystals placed on the corners. Misty smiled at me.

Well, whatever works.

I looked around the mob of park visitors, but, due to the bizarre and garish outfits everyone wore, I couldn't tell where anyone was, even if they happened to be a cartoon made of human skin.

"Where's Chad?"

Misty shrugged. "Probably still signing autographs in front of the Buzz Lightyear ride. I told him to say he was part of the new Invasion of the Kangaroo Mutants ride."

I stared at her for a moment. "Anywhere else, and I'd say you didn't know how to lie right. But we're standing in the middle of a dozen stupidly named stores and restaurants, so your alibi is one hundred percent compelling."

Half concealed by cartoon themed topiary creations, we still received a lot of stares, applause and people taking selfies in front of the spectacle.

I marched forward and took a bow, telling the onlookers to see more at Sexysquirrelgraphicartsandproductions dot net (the phone's acting up - couldn't get the file to save the actual URL) as I juggled rocks and sang the Prince Ali song from Aladdin, and that popular one that says that people in Arabia cut off your hand if they don't like your face.

The benches in that area looked like eggs, kind of like the chairs I'd seen in photos of the 1978 World's Fair, or Men In Black, except they seated more than one person. Misty reclined in one, watching me work.

When I started trying to guess people's ages and weights and birthdays, informing them several times about my website's features, custom animation and birthday parties, people got bored and walked away.

At least, I thought they were bored. Who knows? They may have crashed the website with a million hits or something.

Misty clapped appreciatively. "I wish I knew how to do that!"

"What?" I said. "Be boring?"

She said yes.

I rolled my eyes. "Why spoil things? You're so fun!"

"What would be a good way to get Drew's geographic location and place of business?" she said suddenly.

"Uh..." I hesitated. I really didn't have it out for Drew, but Misty was a friend, and she had just gotten me out of a tight jam.

"I...I still think Drew is kind of cute. For that reason, I really don't want to...ruin things. Just in case...you know. So I really wish you'd do some of the work on that yourself."

Noting that this sounded bad, I quickly added, "Don't get me wrong, I love working for you, and would like to help out in any way I can, but, well, that's not something I want to touch. I hope you understand."

Misty nodded. "Yes. I think I do." But then she said, "I just need a hint."

With a sigh, I said, "You know those little forms they have in sub shops?"

"No?" she said.

I explained, and she made a call with a little tricorder thing.

"Wait," I said. "What did you do with Miley?"

Misty opened a panel on a sculpture topped with the planet Saturn, dragging out our captive, now with a gag tied around her mouth. "This place has all kinds of secret hiding places, if you know where to look...Come. We have a spike to procure."

We followed Master Blaster's computer down a path running beside the Innoventions plaza, earning a place in about a thousand websites, and twice that many Facebook walls.

Sigh.

The moment we passed by the building with the big glass volcano things, I noticed the spacesuit clad statues of Mickey and friends turning their heads like The Exorcist.

Their arms and legs began to move, each of them stomping in an intercept course.

People stopped and took pictures, clapping, as before. I guess they thought this was more wizardry from The Imagineers, or something.

I guess it could be. Maybe stuff like the animatronic T-Rex at Mickey's Parade is just a front for covert military experiments. They certainly have more money than the Pentagon, so anything's possible.

Whatever the agenda, this was no show. As they marched forward in zombie-like fashion, I noticed their gloved fingers folding down like flip top cigarette lighters, exposing suspiciously gun-like weapon barrels.

I saw a flash, and a chunk of a nearby tree exploded in a shower of wood chips.