Mickey Mouse is Metro...

Disneyland:

My Aunt gave me 2 free passes to Disneyland/California (mis)Adventure so I took my girl along on a little Easter stroll through “lose your money” land.



Disneyland Parking Lot


The furry creature who sold us parking was too old to be riding the parking booth at Disneyland. She must have been like 45 or something. How much does a parking attendant at Disneyland make? It can’t be jack shit. It’s gotta be like 10 bucks an hour MAX. She works at Disneyland but can barely afford their stuffed animals. It’s so weird. Maybe the old broad lived in a studio apartment with like 15 boat people from Vietnam. Man, I don’t know how people do it.

Speed is important at the Disneyland Parking lot. No, I don’t mean the kind being crushed on your CD cases right now (although, when I listen to Mickey’s hi-pitched voice, sometimes I feel like I’m crawling out of my skin). No SPEED. As in Greased Lightening. As in hurry up! When I hit the parking lot I want to jump out of the car while it’s still moving.

And action:

EXT. Disney Parking Lot – Day

A skanky silver Nissan Sentra screeches to a stop on top of the parking attendant’s foot.

INT. SKANY SENTRA—DAY

The driver, a gap-toothed Indian, presses his balloon lips against the windshield while the black girl next to him applies the 80th coat of lip gloss.

Gap-Toothed Indian: We’re here! [Oh my god. Look at the people. All those legs. Vericose veins, corns, cankels, feet, shoes. All getting in line before me. Son of a bitch, that Mexican family has 18 kids. We’ve got to go now damn it! Fire in the hole!]

Lip Gloss Junkie: Wait. I need to finish putting on my face.

Gap-Toothed Indian: You don’t need to do that. You’re too pretty. Give the other girl’s in Disneyland a chance. [Vanity! It’s pure vanity! I’m not getting on rides because of your vanity. Pride is a sin. Don’t you see…these handicapped kids are getting to the rides before us…oh my god…my fun…my fun time is being eating alive by your vanity.]

Lip Gloss Junkie: What are you thinking?

Gap-Toothed Indian: Nothing. Ready?

The Gap-Toothed Indian bites the inside of his cheeks to prevent him from screaming.

The Gap-Toothed Indian jumps out of the car, runs over and opens Lip Gloss Junkie’s door. Not because he’s a gentleman, but to get this broad out of the car faster.

Lip Gloss Junkie: Can you put my purse in the trunk?

Gap-toothed Indian: [for the love of god woman, do I have to do everything? Jesus, want me to bail cotton and knit you a shirt too? Why don’t I just wait out in the parking lot until the fireworks go off over the magic castle and go home?] Sure.

Gap-Toothed Indian throws the purse in the trunk and the Handsome couple walks towards the amusement Park.

Gap-toothed Indian: Ok, I’ve got our coordinates laid out. Centcom did some reconnaissance and the Joint Chief of Staffs crunched the value of the targets. We must hit Twilight Zone of Terror first, en route we’ll buzz Muppet’s 3D and be in position to nail California Screamin.’ Which is in striking distance of Maliboomer. We don’t have time to deal with Anti-aircraft fire from Churro dudes and Lemon-ice ninjas. We can lunch in Disneyland at Base OP Blue Bayou. Afternoon in Disneyland is the optimal time for a surgical strike. The kids will be tired, full of carbs and fat, and ready for naps. If you force me into Parade Watching I’ll have to shoot you. Sorry, but it’s better that way. If we get separated, you’re on your own. Bit down hard on the cyanide tab and I’ll see you in hell baby! Gimmie the tickets.

Lip Gloss Junkie: Where’s the tickets?

Gap-toothed Indian: Excuse me?

Lip Gloss Junkie: Where’s the tickets?

Gap-toothed Indian: You had them.

Lip Gloss Junkie: I think I left them in my purse.

Gap-Toothed Indian: You mean the sack of crap I threw in the trunk? That was hours ago? I knew we should have started driving last night.

As the couple walk back to the skanky Sentra, capillaries burst like blooming carnations in the skull of the gap-toothed Indian as he wrenches down the dark desires boiling over in the cauldron of his soul, for if he was to kill his lover at this very moment, disposing of the body might make him miss some rides at Disneyland.