Crowns of the Kingdom
Chapter 18: Close to Home and Far-Flung
It wasn't like before.
Before, they had been relatively unorganized. There was only Mickey's missive to meet in front of the Castle…and when they got there, he had been so strangely distant at first. Now, no communiqué was necessary—the characters simply gathered in the forward part of the courtyard as they awoke, as it was obviously the thing to do. Mickey was, again, the first one there, but this time he was chipper and sociable and overall more like the Mickey Mouse they all knew and loved.
Minnie found him near the Castle arch, telling Donald's nephews about their uncle's unprecedented courage in the Submarine Lagoon. "…maybe even thousands," he was saying. "But do you think that stopped Donald?"
Huey, Dewey, and Louie consulted amongst themselves for a moment before giving their reply: a bright "No!" delivered in perfect unison.
"You bet it didn't!" Mickey told them. "He took that rusty old harpoon and he fought the Dispirations with the strength of ten ducks! All I could see from inside the swarm was a blue and white blur."
Minnie decided to make her presence known. "Does Donald know you're telling stories about him?" she teased.
Mickey looked up, unconcerned. "Hiya, Minnie!"
"Good morning…"
"…Miss…"
"…Minnie," said the triplets in order.
Minnie tittered coyly. "Good morning, boys."
"Listen, kids, I need to have a private one-on-one with my best girl," said Mickey. "You boys run along now." At their groan of disappointment, he raised an admonishing finger. "Ah, ah, ah. I'll tell you the rest of the story another time."
As the ducklings scampered off, with knowing snickers, in search of further childish amusements, Minnie sidled up to Mickey and sneaked a quick kiss onto his cheek. "So, what's so important that it calls for a private one-on-one?"
"Don't worry, it's nothing bad," Mickey replied. "It's just such a beautiful, hopeful morning that I wanted to spend some of it with you alone." He held his hand out to her, she took it, and the two of them walked sedately through the archway on the west side of Sleeping Beauty's Castle, the one leading to the quiet, shady, garden-like area nestled between the Castle and Main Street's Carnation Plaza Garden.
It was not yet eight o'clock, and the sun had only just nudged above the skyline of Tomorrowland, leaving the park still cool and fresh by the standards of a Southern California summer. The two mice went slowly, enjoying the stillness of the young day. Soon, they would have to plunge back into their quest, but for now, the morning was theirs.
They paused on a small footbridge spanning the stream that ran from the Castle moat to the pond at the Frontierland entrance gate, leaning comfortably on the railing. Mickey reached up, idly plucked a leaf from one of the overhanging tree branches, and dropped it, watching it flutter down into the watercourse and float away downstream. "I saw them growing," he said.
"The trees?" Minnie guessed.
"Uh-huh. When I replaced the Mouseketeer Crown and the park jumped forward for the first time, it was one of the first things I noticed. It was like the best nature show ever made. But the weird thing was that I only saw them growing. I didn't see them being pruned."
"What would that even look like, sped up by so much?" Minnie wondered.
"I don't know," Mickey admitted. "I just found it strange that it worked that way. But I guess now we know why."
"Right," said Minnie. Neither of them felt the need to expound on what they both realized—that not only was a thing like tree pruning too mundane to stand out in guests' memories, but only a handful of them ever had the opportunity to see it: all that sort of thing went on outside the park's hours of operation. At times like now, in fact, with the dew still on the bedded flowers and snatches of birdsong drifting on the air…
Minnie suddenly bolted upright on her elbows. "Mickey…listen!" she said breathlessly. "Do you hear them?"
Mickey straightened up also, understanding. It was birdsong they were hearing—not a recording to enhance ambiance (in that area, there wasn't one), but the real thing, an irreproducible mélange of finch chirps and sparrow twitters and even the multifarious calls of dueling mockingbirds…the first sign since the beginning of the adventure of any living thing in the park other than the characters themselves (and Walt, who was an honorary character). Amazed, the two scanned their surroundings, from trees to hedges to building eaves, in search of the singers…but saw nothing. The sound was so real that they could almost touch it, but without visible birds to produce it. It was disembodied birdsong. Far from being as eerie as the word "disembodied" might imply, it was inspiring.
"What do you suppose it means?" asked Minnie.
"Maybe nothing," Mickey said, furrowing his brow. "It could be part of the memories. Everyone who ever walked through this area must have heard the birds, even if they didn't see them."
"Oh," said Minnie, crestfallen. "You're probably right."
"But maybe," Mickey continued, "it means all we've done up to this point is already having an effect. Maybe we've managed to bring Disneyland back toward reality just enough that a few 'real' things can slip through." He suddenly scrunched up his face and shook his head.
"Mickey, are you okay?"
"Yeah, I'm fine. Well, actually…no, I am fine, but…I'll tell you about it in a little while."
Minnie was skeptical, but she put her concerns aside. "If you say so," she said.
"Anyway, it must be just about eight now—we should head back," Mickey went on. "That next crown isn't going to find itself, you know!"
"It would make things a lot easier for all of us if it did," Minnie commented. "Now, before we go back, there's just one thing I want to ask you."
"What's that, Minnie?"
"If I'm your best girl, then who are all the others?"
Startled out of his wits, Mickey tripped over his own feet.
The assembly didn't take long—most of the characters already had a pretty good idea of their roles in the quest and were eager to begin. Mickey took capable volunteers to travel the park in groups of no less than three, watching out for Dispirations and dealing with them as needed. It was essentially the same thing the Three Good Fairies had been assigned to do in 1965, but on a much larger scale and with firm knowledge of the sort of thing they were looking for. Others were to stay and guard the courtyard, and if possible expand the haven it represented into more of Fantasyland. The vulnerable—children and non-combatants—were told to stay within an easy dash of the safeguarded area in case of an emergency, and not to leave its confines alone.
And that was basically all there was to say. For all the weirdness inherent in the ongoing crisis, tackling it was going to be, at least for now, quite simple. There was a rousing group cheer, and then the characters went about their various tasks, leaving the Sensational Six to ponder how they would find the next crown.
They exited Fantasyland and stood in front of Sleeping Beauty's Castle, gazing up at the two crowns that had been placed.
"So which one are we looking for next?" asked Daisy. "The one with the Tinkerbell design?"
"No," said Minnie, pointing toward the pinnacle of the tallest tower. "It'll be the smaller one that goes up there, above the Rocket Crown."
"The Light Crown," Mickey said absently. The design of the crown commemorating Disneyland's third decade was pure sparkle—points shaped like the Blue Fairy float from the famous Electrical Parade, covered with rows and rows of glittering sapphires, alternated with blazing, imperial topaz-studded golden stars. If it had not been the smallest of the five crowns, and placed farthest from the ground, it would likely have blinded guests.
"Mickey, are ya feelin' okay?" Goofy asked sympathetically.
"He said something was bothering him earlier," Minnie noted. "Is now a good time, Mickey?"
"Oh, right!" said the other mouse, much more brightly. "It's nothing major. It's just that…I dreamed something last night, and it feels like it was important, but I can't remember what it was."
"If it feels like it was important, then it probably was," Daisy mused. "Do you remember anything?"
"Nothing comes to mind," Mickey said, scratching his head. "I just feel like I'm…missing something?"
"Can you think about it while we look for the crown?" Donald suggested. "I'm not sure we have time to stand around and grasp at straws."
"You're welcome to try," Minnie scoffed, "but I don't know how far you expect to get when we have no idea where to start. Maybe if we help Mickey remember his dream, it'll provide a clue."
"Hang on now, we might not need to," Goofy said, squinting up at the Castle tower and rubbing his chin. "Let's think about this logical-like. This crown we're lookin' for, the Light Crown, is the one made to look like the Electrical Parade, right?"
"That's right," said Mickey.
"The Main Street Electrical Parade…?" Goofy continued slyly.
"Ri…right!" Mickey realized. "Goofy, you're a genius!"
"I am? A-hyuk! News to me!"
"So we should start looking on Main Street?" said Daisy. "Of course; why didn't I think of that?"
"'Cause you're not a genius like me!" Goofy beamed.
"Well? Let's go already!" said Donald, tapping his foot.
"Hold your horses, Donald," said Mickey. "There's more. Not only do we have a good idea of where to start looking for the crown, but my dream—I just remembered—it had something to do with Main Street!"
"See?" said Minnie. "I told you the two would be connected."
"Something on Main Street…" Mickey continued to rack his brains to himself, rocking back and forth on his heels as though the motion would dislodge the memories from wherever they were stuck. "The train station? No…the Opera House? The Opera House! It was the Opera House!"
He gathered himself to break into a dead run, but Minnie caught his tail and held him fast. "Who exactly needs to hold their horses here, Mickey?" she teased. "There's no point in working yourself into a lather; the Opera House isn't going anywhere."
"Sorry," Mickey chuckled sheepishly. "You know how it is when you've been trying to remember something important for over an hour, and it suddenly comes to you. Let's go—all of us. Walking."
"Finally!" Donald cheered.
The six of them set out, crossing Central Plaza and continuing up Main Street proper. Before they had traversed even half the distance, Donald cried out in astonishment and darted onto the sidewalk. The others looked over to see him pressing his face and hands against the display window for the Crystal Arts shop.
"It's here!" Donald shouted, pointing emphatically at the merchandise display. "I found it!"
They hurried up to join the excited duck at the window. And there it was, sitting alongside the Swarovski figurines and blown-glass roses, just as if it had always been part of the merchandise. The gold and gems glinted invitingly under the display lights. Mickey found himself looking for the price tag.
"No way!" said Daisy. "That can't be the real Light Crown—it would be too easy! Not that I have anything against easy, but come on—we've been looking for what, five minutes? It's gotta be some trick of Maleficent's."
"Possibly," Mickey considered. "It doesn't seem like her style…but then again, before yesterday, I wouldn't have thought the Dispirations seemed like her style."
"Maybe we should leave it for now," Minnie suggested, "and keep going with the original plan to visit the Opera House."
"But what if it is the real one?" Donald protested. "We can't just leave it right out in the open where any…thing might find it!"
"Right, so here's what we do," said Mickey, who had been thinking just that. "Minnie and I will go to the Opera House, while the rest of you stay here and keep an eye on the crown. Don't try to touch it just in case, and if you see any Dispirations…well, I trust you guys to handle things appropriately. Come on, Minnie." He started off again, at a brisker pace than before, paused to call back, "Good luck!" and then continued, with Minnie trotting behind him until she caught up.
The other four stood vigilant guard for about forty-five seconds, at which point Daisy said, "Well, I'm bored," sat down on the sidewalk curb, and began filing her fingernails. Pluto joined her, blowing a snort of indignation at having been left behind. Donald kept his eyes locked on the crown, as though daring it to disappear or turn out to be a trap and attack them or something. Only Goofy remained in high spirits. "Aw, cheer up, you two," he said to the curb-sitters. "I'm sure they won't be gone long. If you want, we could play a game to pass the time! Anyone up for 'I-Spy?'"
Behind him, inside the shop where none of them were focusing their attention, there was a slight movement on one of the merchandise shelves. Two small glass figurines—a lithe Oriental dragon and a unicorn with a gold-plated horn—shifted from their frozen poses, stretching their crystalline limbs. They traded a cagey glance before leaping from the shelf and darting out the shop's back way into the adjacent China Closet, where they reverted into the impressions of shadows that weren't quite there.
Mickey cringed slightly as he and Minnie entered the Opera House, not quite sure what to expect. Between time jumps, disturbed sleep, and everything else, his mental map of the park's history was a little jumbled…plus, he was secretly entertaining the possibility that Maleficent would have a ambush waiting for him inside. He relaxed almost immediately, though, upon seeing the waiting room exhibits. It was The Walt Disney Story: the multimedia celebration of Walt's life and work that had been installed in 1973.
"Well, we're here," Minnie said. "Now what?"
"If I remember right," said Mickey somewhat absently, examining the contents of a display case, "my dream took place inside the theater. So I guess we wait for the doors to open."
It only stood to reason, Mickey realized, that they had to wait a few minutes. The show inside the theater lasted a good fifteen or twenty minutes, which allowed for only three or four brief opportunities per hour to arrive at the building just before it started. So most guests did have to wait, and hence that was the form their collective memories took. It occurred to Mickey that he should be making more proactive use of that bit of knowledge about what was going on. Instead of just noticing something and only then connecting the dots, he could start predicting what they might find around the park, based on what would have been memorable to guests…
His musings were interrupted by the recorded announcement that the theater doors were about to open automatically. A moment later, they did, and he and Minnie entered the softly lit theater.
As they crossed the threshold, Mickey felt his fur stand at attention. Something was…not wrong, per se, but certainly strange (although that had long since become a relative term). The stage curtain was drawn back when it should have been closed for the start of the show. And someone was on the stage—he could hear the telltale little sounds of an unobtrusive human presence. Motioning for Minnie to stay where she was, he silently moved further into the theater, where he could get a better look.
He relaxed at once when he saw that it was only Abe. Of course—what was I thinking?
Such is Disneyland's fame that even some of its individual attractions have garnered international renown. Six Flags as a chain might be the first name in thrills, but none of its individual roller coasters have the instant recognizability of Space Mountain. People who have never set foot within a hundred miles of a Disney theme park will nonetheless groan with familiarity upon hearing the strains of "It's a Small World (After All)." Even the humble Mad Tea Party, close cousin to the tilt-a-whirl of any given traveling carnival, is well known.
And then there is "Great Moments With Mr. Lincoln." In its way, it might be the most famous of them all—not by name, but in that people who know nothing else about the Disney parks know that you can go there and see a robotic version of Abraham Lincoln deliver a speech. In the jaded Twenty-First Century, such a concept comes across as quaint, a source of humor. But people remember what makes them laugh.
Those who see it in person are usually too impressed to be amused. The Lincoln figure is among the best that audio-animatronic technology has to offer. He may not be as exciting as a carousing pirate or hitchhiking ghost, but he gives the impression of being more subtly alive than either. He can stand up from his chair and sit down again. He periodically checks his notes and shifts his weight from foot to foot as he speaks. His face is so intricately mobile that the deaf have been known to read his lips. Once in a while, someone is fooled into thinking him flesh-and-blood—an actor, or even, in a moment of exceptionally scattered brain, the genuine article.
That kind of thing needs no spell tampering with the fabric of reality to bring it from a mere semblance of life to real life. Abe had been welcomed to the Disney Family not long after his debut in 1965. He mostly kept to himself—being the likeness of a real person from history kept him grounded, limited his personality and actions in a way that the other characters were not subject to, and that resulted in a certain distance between him and them. Still, Mickey typically found the time for a visit every couple of months or so, to talk over cups of coffee about current events.
At the moment, Abe didn't seem to have any coffee prepared as he bent over his cluttered writing desk, scribbling away with a mahogany fountain pen. But Mickey had a doozy of a current event to talk about…briefly, of course—the others were still waiting at Crystal Arts.
"Hiya, Abe!" he called brightly, waving Minnie over.
"Well, hello, Mickey," the former President greeted him, looking up from his work. "Perhaps you can help me sort out a little matter of wording here. Which do you think sounds better: 'government by the people and for the people,' or 'government of the people, by the people, and for the people?'"
"Definitely the second one," said Mickey, who had had this conversation before. (One of Abe's limitations was that he was perpetually in the process of writing the Gettysburg Address.)
"And drop the 'and' for closer parallelism between the phrases," Minnie added.
Abe wrote something down and crossed something else out. "Yes, you're right," he said. "I thank the both of you. So, then, Mickey, Minnie—what's the occasion?"
"Nothing very pleasant, I'm afraid," said Minnie. "We're actually not here to chat. Disneyland's in big trouble, and we're on a quest to fix it. Mickey came here trying to remember a dream he had that might give us some clues."
"Well, best of luck to you," said Abe. "If you need anything, I'll be right here." He chuckled. "You know, I've missed being able to say that. It is good to be back."
That last bit had Mickey puzzled until he remembered what year it was. The Walt Disney Story had displaced "Great Moments" at first. Abe had been stuck in mothballs for over two years, until the summer of '75, when it was decided to let both presentations share the Opera House. Abe would be the theater's chief occupant until…well, until 2005, when an all-new exhibit and show about Disneyland's history would take over the building as part of the Happiest Homecoming on Earth. Something about that made Mickey feel slightly guilty…
But he had to move on in any case. Turning away from the stage, he let his eyes sweep the theater, hoping to jog his memory. A few flashes came to him in rapid succession: green leaves, shining gold, and Walt Disney's face under Abe Lincoln's trademark silk top hat. Are you sure you have everything you need, Mickey?…
"Okay, I think I've got it," he said, panting a little with the surprise of the sudden recollections. "It's about the crown, and something to do with Adventureland."
"Adventureland?" Minnie repeated. "Are you sure?"
"Pretty sure," Mickey replied. "I can't think of any other place in the park that has tree leaves bigger than my ears. Come on, let's get back to the others. Thanks for putting up with us, Abe!"
"Any time!" the figure on the stage responded with a perfunctory wave as the two mice exited the theater via the doors opposite to those by which they had entered.
"Adventureland…" Minnie said again as they stepped from the Opera House back onto Town Square. "It doesn't make sense to me. Did you dream that the real Light Crown was there or something?"
"Yes and no," Mickey admitted.
"Let me guess: you'll explain when we're all together again so you don't have to repeat yourself?"
"You've got me figured out, all right," Mickey confirmed with a smile.
They picked up their pace, rounding the corner shop and stepping onto the main thoroughfare. Close to the far end, Daisy spotted them immediately; they heard her half-exasperated "Finally!" She elaborated once they got closer: "I was just about to pass out from boredom!"
Mickey couldn't help himself. "Oh, good, so there was no trouble, then." Daisy started to snap a retort, but Mickey went on before she could get anything out. "Anyway, I remembered what I needed to know." He took an appraising look at the Light Crown in the display window.
"So is that the real Light Crown?" asked Minnie.
"Probably, but it won't do us any good to try taking it," said Mickey. "Remember the first two? They weren't tangible objects at first. We had to merge them with crowns belonging to characters before we could even touch them."
There was a brief round of Oh Yeah Of Course.
"Yeah, I forgot about it too, up until a few minutes ago. So we need to go get a material crown to merge with this one," Mickey continued. "The only problem is, we're starting to run out of crowns we might be able to use. We didn't regain many characters in the last time jump, and of those we did, all the crowns belong to…well, villains. Can you imagine asking Prince John to loan us his?"
Daisy snorted. "Not a chance. Technically, it's not even his crown—it's King Richard's. But if Robin Hood and Little John can't get it away from him, I don't think we'd fare much better."
"Exactly," said Mickey. "Then there's King Leonidas…but the last time I tried to talk to him, he roared in my ears and then beaned me with a soccer ball. And I was only asking him if he wanted to come to the Make-A-Wish Foundation fund-raiser. I hate to think how he'd react if I asked for his crown."
"Who's left?" Donald wondered, scratching his head.
Mickey made a face that was somewhere between a wry smile and a grimace. "King Louie."
"But he doesn't even wear a crown," Goofy said. "Does he?"
"He keeps one around to 'prove' he's really a king," Minnie said, making the same face as Mickey. "It's not what I'd call a proper royal crown—for one thing, he made it himself out of leaves and banana peels. But it's probably our best option…and I need to talk to Louie anyway. I never got the word through to him last night about what's going on."
That was when the explosion occurred.
While all the discussion had been going on, Pluto had caught hints on the breeze of an approaching noise—a faint buzzing sound—and had spotted a small object zipping along the ground from the direction of the Emporium. It followed a roughly zigzag course, and when it got close enough, Pluto saw that was an old-fashioned tin toy: a wagon-mounted cannon with a wind-up motor, the barrel loaded with a red-white-and-blue rocket. It stopped about a foot away from him and sat there, fizzing quietly. So he did what any reasonably intelligent dog would do—he leaned closer and dipped his head to sniff at it.
And that was when the cannon fired, ramming the little firecracker right into Pluto's tender nose, where it exploded in an eye-piercing, ear-shattering display of daytime fireworks. The tawny dog's howl of pain and affront could barely be heard over the cacophony.
"What's going on?" Daisy screeched, finding herself suddenly in the middle of what felt like a war zone.
"We're under attack!" Goofy exclaimed, flinging himself on the ground. "Duck and cover! Stop, drop, and roll! Call for backup!"
The onslaught soon died down, but by that time, more toy cannons were rolling up. "Uh…guys…" Donald said with a nervous, rising tone. The cannons began firing, engulfing them all in blinding, deafening, smoky bursts.
"They must be Dispirations!" Minnie deduced, dodging rockets.
"These things?" Daisy said incredulously. "But they don't look like Dispirations!"
"Dispirations can look like anything!" Mickey reminded her.
"Who cares what they are? They're tryin' to turn us into crispy critters!" Goofy wailed.
"Good point—run!" said Mickey. "Head for Adventureland!
Kicking at their tiny attackers and flailing their way through the gunpowdery smoke, the Sensational Six fled for Central Plaza, veering sharply left toward the bamboo arch that marked the entrance to Adventureland. Donald looked back briefly, only to emit a "Wak—!" of fright. "Mickey, they're chasing us!"
"Are they catching up to—yikes! Never mind," said Mickey as a firework narrowly missed his head. An instant later, it exploded, showering him with "embers" that paradoxically seemed to freeze rather than burn, that sucked light in rather than giving it off. "Definitely Dispirations!" he said with a shudder. "Keep going!" They passed through the gateway and into Adventureland.
"We can't keep running forever," Minnie said.
"I've got an idea," Mickey told her, locking his eyes on the façade for the Jungle Cruise ride just ahead. Hadn't he just been thinking he should start using what he knew about Disneyland's situation to his advantage?
A few of the Dispirations had fallen behind when they had entered Adventureland, but those that remained had changed their forms without missing a beat, and more were joining them, trickling out of the shops, planters, and miscellaneous nooks and crannies. They wore such shapes as rubbery-looking cobras, malevolent Tiki idols, and orchids whose petals snapped like toothy jaws. That bought them a small margin of safety—although the new creatures looked more menacing than the toy cannons, they could not attack at a distance.
Mickey kept up his pace until he was exactly parallel with the entrance to the Jungle Cruise's queue bullpen, then shouted "In here!" and turned a hard left into the labyrinth of poles and railings. The rest of the Sensational Six were barely able to react in time, but they scrambled in after him.
"Are you sure this was such a good idea?" asked Minnie. "We can't move as quickly in here, and I'm certain some of those things can just hop over or under the railings and cut through. And what happens when we reach the dock?"
"Trust me; I know what I'm doing," said Mickey.
The next few minutes were almost farcical—the Sensational Six threading their way through the switchbacks like obedient guests, a swarm of small but deadly jungle creatures close on their heels. Once, when one of the biting orchids got too close to Donald, bringing up the rear, he had the presence of mind to lash out at it with a length of chain. The spring-loaded clip at the end walloped the flower, tearing off half of its saw-edged petals, and Donald nodded with satisfaction as the Dispiration dissolved back into shadowy mist.
Finally, they reached the end of the queue, only a few steps ahead of their pursuers. Mickey bit his lip—one of the Jungle Cruise boats, the Zambezi Miss, was idling at the dock all right, and if he had figured things correctly, it would leave as soon as they were on board. "Get on!" he urged the others, falling back a short distance himself so that he could make sure they were all safely aboard before he hopped into the boat himself.
A few Dispirations were too close for comfort. Mickey snatched up a seat cushion from inside the boat and fended them off until the boat began to grumble and move, then jumped the short distance. He stumbled upon landing and wound up in a sprawled heap with the cushion.
"Whoa, there!" said a semi-sarcastic voice. "I always enjoy a good stunt show, but I should inform you that there was another boat right behind this one." Despite his smarting joints, Mickey sighed happily—his gamble had paid off.
So far in the adventure, the Sensational Six had not encountered any Cast Members. As they had realized the previous night, this was because most guests didn't take much notice of the Cast Members—not enough notice, at any rate, for the typical hard-working employee to leave a noticeable imprint on the collective memories of the park. But some Cast Members are memorable. Some, in fact, are an integral part of the attractions they operated.
The most outstanding of these are the Jungle Cruise skippers.
"Anyway," the semi-sarcastic voice continued as Mickey collected himself and took a seat next to Minnie, "welcome aboard the world-famous Jungle Cruise. My name is Joe, and I'll be your skipper and guide for your voyage down the Rivers of Adventure. Please keep your hands, arms, feet, legs, heads, tails, and any and all other body parts you'd like to hang onto inside the boat, and remain seated at all times unless directed otherwise from the cockpit."
Joe was an entirely typical skipper—a gangly youth of about eighteen, neither plain nor handsome, with wavy brown hair and a light, somewhat freckled suntan. Of course he was entirely typical. He probably wasn't an individual person, but a composite of all the Jungle Cruise skippers who had worked in the mid-Seventies. 1975, in any case. Certainly the summer of 1975. And in those days, the hiring standards were a lot narrower. Any given skipper had an excellent chance of being a gangly youth of about eighteen, neither plain nor handsome…though hair and skin tone varied.
Minnie leaned over to Mickey. "Did you know he would be here?" she whispered.
"Not exactly," Mickey replied. "But this works great for us—we can relax a bit until the boat gets to King Louie's part of the jungle."
"Ahem, excuse me?" Joe wisecracked. "Do you have something you want to say to the whole class?"
"Why, sure—I was just telling my best girl here that I think you're doing a bang-up job as skipper."
"Yeah, nice try, sir, but my keister's for sitting, not for kissing. Why don't you just pipe down and let me do my job? I'm trying to guide these nice people!"
"Guide away, Joe," said Mickey. "Guide away."
The Zambezi Miss chugged its way along the murky tropical river.
To Be Continued…
A/N: Strangely enough, I don't have much to say about this chapter, except that it's so nice to have my inspiration up and running again! Thanks once again for your patience, and thanks to everyone who has reviewed!
