Chasing the Rabbit: Chapter Ten -Fire and Ice

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Present Day

A stroll through daylight made Maleficent uncomfortable, but the journey demanded it. From a distance, the large rock before her appeared to be a mountain, but she knew otherwise. It was nothing more than a massive rock, disguised to be something it was not.

At the base of the structure resided the skeletal remains of what must have been a magnificent beast; jaws long enough to swallow a man whole. She imagined at its full height, the creature would have met a third floor balcony at eye level. Now this titan of yore was reduced to little more than a skull and ribs embedded in the stone. Rest well noble being, she thought.

A crow's glide to the right stood the man of the vines; Tarzan, if she recalled correctly. He stood guard at one of the many cavern entrances, which made Maleficent's search significantly simpler. He clearly sensed her presence, but couldn't see her. No need for dramatics. She drifted behind him and filled his mind with the weight of fatigue. "Sleep now," she whispered, and Tarzan was no longer on guard.

The darkness of the cave invigorated Maleficent. A colony of bats hung from the ceiling above her, their glowing red eyes taken to fascination with her entrance. She smiled as she maneuvered past them. The area beyond was much larger, dotted with stalactites that dripped an unknown source into small pools below. Each droplet hit the surface with a ripple that hummed, like a pilgrim in meditation, and a circular rainbow waved out to the edges. The very rocks gave off a low glow that Maleficent had not witnessed before. There was magic in these caverns. And more.

Elsa was easy to find as the magic within her gave her an aura of luminescence. She sat next to one of the pools, scooping up a handful of the water and pouring it into the wound in her side. When it touched her skin Elsa stiffened as if it was burning her, but she kept herself from making a sound. Self control, thought Maleficent. So much wasted potential.

Elsa felt that she wasn't alone and pushed herself to her feet. "Who's there?" she whispered.

Maleficent brought herself into the light. Elsa stumbled backwards creating a glowing ball of frost in her hand. "Don't insult me," Maleficent scolded her. "If I meant to bring harm to you I would have already done so."

"What have you done with Tarzan?"

"Your friend will awaken when I allow it." Maleficent glided across the cave floor, stopping in front of Elsa, who had yet to relinquish her magical projectile. A green flare appeared where the ball was, causing it to melt in the Queen's hand. "It is you I will speak with, Elsa of Arendelle."

"You know me?"

"I do," evil's mistress eyed her suspiciously. "Do you know me as well?"

Elsa shook her head. "You have me at a disadvantage."

"You have yourself at a disadvantage. So much power within you and all you can think to do is repress it." She pushed past Elsa towards the spray of an indoor waterfall. "I am Maleficent. And like you and your-" she ground her teeth before saying the next word, "-kind...I am a prisoner in this place."

"We're all trying to figure out why we're here."

"Yes," Maleficent smiled an unsettling smile. "But one of you isn't forthcoming about what they know. Or haven't you noticed?"

Elsa gave her a puzzled stare. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Then allow me to illuminate you." Maleficent waved her hand in front of the sheet of water that poured from the ceiling. "Would you be so kind?"

It took Elsa a moment to figure out what Maleficent was asking her to do, and another to agree to it, but with the command of a conductor Elsa solidified the curtain into a beautiful smooth screen of ice. Maleficent twirled her fingers around the top of her staff and images of Kronk, Jasmine, and the rest projected where the waterfall had just been; snippets of conversations resonated through the crystalline sheet. Tarzan and Bagheera's fight, the Yeti attack, the strange silhouette that emerged from the brush; Maleficent wasn't just showing her these things as a random display. She'd been watching them. And she was flaunting it.

Maleficent smirked as the memory she'd selected for Elsa appeared; the moment Tarzan had taken Elsa's hand and she'd blasted him with her magic. And run from him, repeating the words "This was such a bad idea." The image faded but the words 'bad idea' continued to echo through the cavern, a deliberate flourish from the dark fairy.

"You know," she feigned an interest in her own fingernails, "if one were to...imprison...a collective ensemble in an artificial setting, for whatever reason, one would most likely want a pair of eyes from within. Do you understand what I am saying to you, Elsa of Arendelle?"

Elsa leaned away from Maleficent. "You think I had something to do with this?"

"I'm only going to ask this politely one time. Perhaps you'll be the first to refrain from making yourself a fool." Maleficent inhaled deeply. "What," she said, "was a bad idea?"

Elsa stared at her. She didn't want a fight, but somehow she felt her answer was not going to appease Maleficent. "I chose this."

"What do you mean, you chose this?"

"I don't know." Elsa could feel the furnace in Maleficent's eyes flaring, but she held her ground. "I'm telling you the truth," she insisted. "I can't remember anything, except I just...know."

"Then let's start with that," Maleficent huffed. "You chose this, because?"

"Because my sister encouraged it. She wanted me to-" Elsa trailed off as her mind beyond that point was a complete blank.

"What would your sister most likely be encouraging you to do?"

"Anna thinks I need...people...friends."

"Foolish girl," Maleficent sneered.

"Watch it!" Elsa snapped. "That's my sister you're talking about."

"No, I was talking about you. For listening to her."

"Excuse me?" Elsa had been more than intimidated by her visitor up until that point, but now she felt an unnoticed seed of courage blossoming. "Maleficent, is it? I don't know what your station is, but be aware that you are speaking to the Queen of Arendelle."

"Really? Is that who I'm speaking to?" Maleficent's featured softened into an uncharacteristic smile that slowly transformed into laughter.

"You think I'm lying?"

"No." Maleficent was laughing harder now. "I believe you."

"Then why is that funny?"

"It's not," the laughter was turning into a cackle now. "What is funny is 'Princess' Jasmine so eloquently flaunting her rank over 'Judge' Claude Frollo while the Queen of Arendelle kept that tidbit of information to herself."

Elsa grumbled. "You've been studying us."

"Yes I have, Queen Elsa, and you have just become significantly more interesting."

"Well, if you're this entertained why don't you tell me what you've figured out?"

"Agreed." Maleficent composed herself. "We both accept that this place is a construct and at least one of us is here by choice. But you see, I have no memory of choosing to be here. Or not choosing. I'm as blind as your minions."

"Friends," Elsa corrected her.

"Whatever you call them. The question is, why would you be granted an added memory?"

Elsa thought carefully. "To keep me from panicking. From doing something that would hurt someone."

"So that suggests there is a non-malevolent intention behind this realm." Maleficent turned her attention away from Elsa and began pacing. "We may be part of a collection."

"If that were true, I would never have chosen to be a part of it."

"And you think you're incapable of being lied to?"

"Of course I can be lied to. But if my sister encouraged this it's because she thought it would be an opportunity."

Maleficent glowered. "That's a blind leap of optimism."

"Well it feels right to me," said Elsa, throwing herself by the phrase that she'd never uttered before.

"Then if feelings are what the Queen of Arendelle is looking to for authority, how do they explain an opportunity that feels like an elaborate prison."

"Something's gone wrong," she answered. "Terribly wrong."

As if it had been waiting for its cue, a rumble could be felt throughout the floor of the cave which took Elsa's footing away from her. Back at the entrance the bats abandoned their base and took to the outdoors.

"What was that?" cried Elsa.

Maleficent gave her a smug glance. "That seems to be a chance to test your theory."

The rock shifted more violently as Elsa had to hug a stalagmite to regain her feet. One of the more medium sized rocks from overhead dislodged, landing in the pool next to her and splashing all over the area. Whatever had been causing the luminescence in the cave was fading now. Elsa looked back at where Maleficent had just been standing, but the mistress of evil had left her behind. She ran.

The cave was getting darker now, and her shoulder scraped against the wall. Something next to her caught her dress and Elsa tumbled forward, smacking hard against the floor. A few feet ahead of where she'd sprawled came a massive bang that sounded like thunder in her ears. She had no idea what part of the cave had fallen from the ceiling, but the snagging of her dress may have just saved her life.

Instinct told her she wasn't getting out this way anymore. Elsa tore her dress from the snare and scurried back in the direction she'd come. The floor had subsided to a mere vibration but pieces of the structure were still coming loose. She ran up the slope as best as she could make it out, muttering to herself "Please don't be a dead end. Or a yeti."

The cave opened up into a flat area with sunlight poking through the cracks. Elsa still couldn't see an immediate way out, but the rays were at least a hopeful sign. The final sounds of rocks being dislodged were well behind her, and she took a moment to rest.

She tried to catch her breath, but as soon as she inhaled Elsa started coughing. The air in this area had the taste of ash. She pushed on, concerned that something may have happened there.

A welcomed opening to the outside came into view, but by then the ash was infecting her eyes causing tears to swell up. She steadied herself against the inner wall, but jerked her hand back when the touch felt like it would burn her skin.

"Ouch!" She blinked rapidly, trying to focus her vision on the place she had just touched. Was this some sort of volcano?

No, it wasn't. Although it took her a moment to comprehend that. At first she thought something had opened up, like a door; a round door, leading down a tunnel of red. She was wrong. It was an eye. Larger than Elsa. And she would soon learn that it belonged to a creature that had either sprang from or was made out of the magma of the earth itself.

And it had fixated on her.

Maleficent had been premature in calling Elsa's logic a blind leap of optimism. For as she dove through the mouth of the cave and into a free fall with the firebird pursuing her, this would be the most literal representation of those words.

Continue to Chapter Eleven
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Editorial: Roxette's Joyride

Why Roxette? Because it's my damned blog and I can write about whatever I want, and this week I want to write about Roxette.

I don't know who all reads these blogs, but I imagine on average you know the band Roxette from their monster hits in the late eighties and early nineties. You might not be aware that they're still putting out albums as recently as this year (2016 CE for any digitally fluent alien archeologists, and welcome to what's left of the earth by the way). Likewise, unless you're a huge fan who has shelled out the extra money for quite a few European import CD's, it may not occur to you that there's anything special to distinguish Roxette from any other pop duo (although rumor has it if you're European, Roxette is on par with the Beatles).

Well, come on, join the joyride. Get your tickets here. Let's take a quick look at the catalog to see what the fuss is all about. Step right this way...

Getting Dressed For Success -Songs of Innocence

There's some music history here but that's what Wikipedia is for. You really need to know singer/guitarist/multiple language songwriter Per Gessle as the male half of the duo and lead singer Marie Fredriksson as the female half; and it's also worth giving credit to longtime producer Clarence Öfwerman.

Per and Marie came into the music scene separately and had established their own careers, but fate naturally intertwined them on enough occasions that it only made sense to give a team-up album a whirl. And thus came the debut of Pearls of Passion.

As an album, Pearls is very...sugary. It's not necessarily a bad thing, but when you hear the opening sleigh bell bounciness that sets the tempo for the first track you can expect to get quite a bit more of that from the later songs. I'm not going to do a full album explication, just hit the highlights.

Soul Deep -Marie demonstrates how she can (and will) sing the hell out of anything in this classic track that is beloved by everyone but me. Think of bubblegum pop. Now take out the bubblegum and replace it with sno-caps. Add syrup and a couple of gummi bears and keep the Tylenol handy. We're going to need it. Really this song just shows off Marie's voice.

Secrets That She Keeps -We're still in Candyland, I guess a few spaces away from Molasses Swamp considering the painful subject material, and yet we're still bouncing around in this major key. This is the first Per/Marie duet, and the interesting thing is it establishes the nature of their relationship. Throughout all of their duets, they never seem to be singing to each other. It comes across more as the anima/animus of the same entity, and I think this may be the key to what makes Roxette work. Per and Marie have more of a brother/sister relationship than a romantic one, and as such that grants them a freedom to go into some untapped song territories.

Goodbye To You -Ye gods, another bouncy one. This has got to be the peppiest breakup song in the history of the subgenre. I'm going to need that Tylenol now.

I Call Your Name -Okay, the music finally woke up. Knowing Roxette the way I do, this is the first song that actually feels like Roxette. The mood here is a painful distance. Marie's emotional range is in full force and Per comes in as a supportive role. This is a good taste of what's to come.

Call of the Wild -This song is a rarity, in that it's a love ballad where Per takes point and Marie is in the supporting role. Per has a nice voice. He may not have Marie's versatility or power, but he's no slouch when it comes to conveying emotion. Subtlety is his strength, and it works here flawlessly.

Joy of a Toy -Oh yeah. This is one of the few times Marie is allowed a little venom in her bite and it's a sweet wound indeed. This song is great (and danceable) on its own, but it gets a whole new layer on the Dance Passion remix. Best of luck tracking down a copy though.

So Far Away -Roxette is essentially discovering itself on this first album, but it's in this final track that the identity comes forth in full force. Any pain on the album prior to this track tends to fall into the realm of discomfort. This song is about genuine hurting, and Marie absolutely breaks your heart with her vocalization. Every Roxette album ends on a ballad, with varying degrees of success. But Pearls comes dangerously close to setting the bar too high.

The bottom line: Roxette is a child on this album, and prone to the spectrum of emotions associated therein. That final track contains the first real heartbreak that reality-slaps one into adolescence, and the music will invariably evolve accordingly. So, do we know exactly what Roxette is at this point? Maybe, but let's keep going for now.

Opportunity Nox -Songs of Achievement

You probably know this era already. The first nine notes of Listen to Your Heart scream "I will not be ignored" louder than any song in history, save for Beethoven's Da-da-da-DUM. Roxette came to the United States partially by accident and exploded internationally. Look Sharp was the album that introduced most Americans to the realization that Sweden didn't stop recording after ABBA split up. Two years later came the spiritual successor Joyride, and the six words "Hello you fool I love you" that will be in everyone's heads until we die.

Riding on the same wave were a couple of power ballads that never quite made it to an official album but transcended a few movie soundtracks. Perhaps you've heard of the critically acclaimed and unquestionably triumphant video game-to-screen adaptation called Super Mario Brothers, as well as the much more obscure and overlooked Julia Roberts rom com whose name escapes me at the moment (there was like a prostitute and three thousand dollars or something. I don't think anybody I know saw it).

There are so many highlights from this period; just a few that are at least worth a name mention are Dance Away, Chances, Dangerous, Hotblooded, Fading Like a Flower, Knockin' On Every Door, (Do You Get) Excited?, Small Talk, and Things Will Never Be the Same. Roxette was in its young adulthood where it could eat whatever it wanted, stay up until five in the morning, and go drinking on weeknights. And there was plenty of time to unearth the diamonds and sapphires that people would be polishing off for decades to come. And here they are.

The Look -Do you know what this song is about? No? Apparently neither does Per. Whatever the titular 'look' is that the eponymous 'she' has, it's apparently a pretty big deal. Anthem-worthy in fact. Basically, this song rocks in the purest sense. I don't know who 'she' is, or what the 'look' signifies, but I can't make it through this song without feeling happy for her. Damn. I wish I had the 'look'.

Dressed for Success -I can't deny this is another song that instantly got into my head and stayed there, although this one was actually unwanted. I know a lot of people who ADORE this song, but for me it feels like a throwback to the shallow end of the pool, kind of the Pearls of Passion dessert buffet but clearly sounding like Roxette now.

Cry -Now THIS is a breakup song! Thank you Marie. You guided me through several dark moments. If you've ever experienced falling for someone who proved unworthy of your tears (but was going to get them anyway) then I say take a gander at this one. Funny thing is, this song should have been the standout power ballad of Look Sharp, and I imagine if it had been on any other album it would have.

Listen to Your Heart -And that would be why Cry gets partitioned to the back row. Well, life's not fair, is it? You wouldn't be here if you didn't already know this song, so let's talk about why it works. Take a relationship at a crossroads. Stay together because of how much love there is, or break up because...we don't really know, something externally has affected it. If you present that conflict from the decider's point of view it comes across as unsympathetic, at least in song form. We only have this one moment to get a sense of the bigger picture, and the decider would seem indecisive. Now if we tell it from the decidee's viewpoint, it creates a sense of helplessness; waiting on the jury, so to speak. But Listen to Your Heart wisely takes the third option, with Marie as an observant third party. It can be assumed she's so emotionally invested in the outcome because she sees the big picture, and most likely can anticipate the fallout from the wrong choice. That's why this song is so powerful, and kind of unique. Because it's about pleading with someone to make the right decision purely because you care about them.

Joyride -Like The Look, this is a word salad song that probably doesn't mean anything. There's another 'she' and 'she' evidently makes the world a lot cooler just by existing in it. But 'she' is also willing to tell all her secrets in a wonderful balloon and invite you to join the joyride, so that's delightful. Maybe 'she' will loan me the 'look' for the weekend.

Spending My Time -This has always felt like the direct follow up to Listen to Your Heart except Marie has switched roles to the decider, who has made the wrong choice and regretted it. The music does something really interesting at the end that Per has said was a mistake (and I totally disagree). Marie is singing her heart out in a near breakdown, but suddenly the music goes from a minor to a major key, almost sounding happy. To me, it comes across as if the world has stopped indulging her regret and is moving on without her. And it adds in an awesome third movement that I wish more Roxette songs had.

It Must Have Been Love -Now we're on the soundtracks, and I honestly don't have much to say about this one except that piano chord during the bridge gives me chills.

Almost Unreal -Why, WHY, WHY was this song wasted on Super Mario Brothers? Don't ask questions, just go listen to it right now. I'll even give you the link. Two things. First, listen to the way Marie sings "You give me that look". The first two times it goes up like a question. But after the bridge, it comes down like a statement. That's the moment where all of the repressed emotions in the song crack through the defenses and come pouring through. Brava, Marie. Second, this was the song my wife and I danced to at our wedding reception. I also serenaded her with it one night a karaoke. She has graciously accepted it as 'our song'. I love you honey. And it's true, you give me that look; it's almost unreal.

Hello. Goodbye. -Songs of Transience

I've never been part of a successful rock band, or an unsuccessful one now that I think about it (my attempts to get The Spyres off the ground ended when I realized I didn't want to learn how to play an instrument). But I imagine the experience of touring is like being inside a bubble made out of tour buses, where the world outside is a homogenized blur while the confines inside become a boiling kettle of energy (for better or worse).

Roxette's next album, named Tourism, was recorded during their Join the Joyride tour and contains a handful of live performances, some unplugged covers, and a couple of fully realized tracks thrown in for good measure. Overall, Tourism is a softer album, and it effectively captures the sense that the young adult ember is fading like a flower in favor of a late twenties 'where do I belong?' vibe.

The next studio album, Crash! Boom! Bang!, continues this feel with pessimism seeping through the cracks. Take the song Vulnerable as an example. On Pearls of Passion, vulnerability would have been the holy grail of subject matter; here it's more of an inconvenience.

Now let me be clear: both of these albums are fantastic, and Crash! Boom! Bang! might actually be the band's best album in terms of consistency from track 1 to track 15. It's just that Roxette is having to grow up, and that period where adult responsibility sets in is not a fun one.

I'll start with Crash! Boom! Bang! because it's a lot harder to single anything out. Intentional or not, when you listen to this album from start to finish it feels like you've gone from the excitement of a new relationship, to the inevitable difficulties of maintenance, to the bitter breakup, and finally to the period of moving on. But here are my anecdotes:

Crash! Boom! Bang! -Two surprises. One, the song is in 3/4 time. Two, for a title with three exclamation points, this song is pretty subdued.

Fireworks -Reversing the mood shift from Spending My Time, the music takes an unexpectedly sad turn at the end not reflected in the lyrics.

Sleeping in My Car -A pretty straightforward pop track, but it's got one really sexy drum beat!

The First Girl on the Moon -This is either an inspiring song or a sad one, depending on which character you attach to. One goes off on an adventure, one stays behind. And not to give away which one I associate with, but damn you Marie and your golden voice!

Love is All (Shine Your Light on Me) -Roxette may not explicitly mention God until 2012's Traveling, but I find it's almost impossible to not interpret their songs through a spiritual filter. This one has all the indicators of a secular-sacred hymn.

How Do You Do! -The flagship track off of Tourism, and the only upbeat pop song that sits nicely next to songs like The Look. I don't really understand the exclamation point in the title but Per and Marie have mastered the tag-team by now.

The Heart Shaped Sea -This is one of Roxette's most painful songs, and it had to have been performed by Per instead of Marie. In context we have the singer who realizes his relationship is over because his lover is in love with someone else. For whatever reason, it's not just on him to let go. He has to actually encourage her to leave him. Per nails the precise emotion the song requires. At this moment he's not angry or sad, he's just defeated.

The Rain -A couple of images keep popping up in the lyrics. Stars are one, and rain is another. Off the top of my head I can think of four Roxette songs with 'rain' in the title. This one is probably Marie's answer to The Heart Shaped Sea, where she's reflecting on the moments she's chosen to not be happy. You don't hear that topic covered too much in music.

Queen of Rain -Yep. Two on the same album. It's almost like we've got a narrative going. Speaking as someone who deals with depression, the recurring line "Dream about the sun, you queen of rain" always manages to stroke a pretty well guarded nerve.

Sometimes You Don't Decide For Yourself -Songs of Wisdom

Any living entity, from the Muppets to Monty Python, is going to have its proverbial golden age where the tapering off period is still very high quality, but there's a sense that the party might be winding down. For Roxette, the near back-to-back releases of Have a Nice Day and Room Service marks this transition.

Taken on their own, either one of these albums is great and contain some of the band's best work. But by comparison to the earlier albums neither one seems to gel as a whole, with songs about specific characters like Cooper and Jefferson standing out as disjointed. Also gone by now are the power ballads that close out the albums, opting for a bit more of a receding tide farewell.

But there is still a general mood that pervades these later albums, namely a subtle awareness of mortality and a warm acceptance of the inevitable. Roxette is beyond the point of needing to understand its emotions, and has grown quite adept at embracing them in all of their complexity. Tracks seven through ten on Have a Nice Day particularly encapsulate the full roller coaster of emotions in an unofficial suite.

7Twenty7 -There's a real anger at work here as Per takes on the guise of someone who didn't hold on to someone he should have. He can only watch her plane disappear into the sky, and scold himself. The anger is a controlled one, but the hard driving beat signifies the self loathing just under the surface.

I Was So Lucky -Evidently Per wrote this song as a reflection on the birth of his son, but the lyrics are general enough to apply to any situation. This song represents elation in its most unblemished-by-cynicism form. The rolling saxophone calls to mind a moonlight swim, where the mood is so deep that one feels weightless. And Marie flawlessly conveys joy to the point of tears. Although hold your breath as that final note fades, because you're in for one big freaking mood whiplash.

Stars -Those aren't tears of joy anymore. That's a wailing of loss. It's fascinating how a line like "Knowing all I know, that's where I'll meet you" can take on two simultaneous meanings when sung by both Marie and a children's chorus. Stars is my favorite song, not just by Roxette, ever.

Salvation -Closing out the quadrilogy is the song of transcendence, possibly continuing the theme from Love is All. Among the many things I will likely never accomplish is an art film arranging a majority of Roxette's music into a single narrative called "Flowers on the Moon", a name taken from this song. And it's at this point I should mention what I think Roxette is. It's a band about connections. Every song seems to be about the beauty of connecting two unexpected elements (like Per and Marie), or the struggle of disconnecting them. As such, the band's body of work naturally lends itself to finding (presumably unintentional) connections across albums, rain, stars, cars, calling someone's name, etc. And I find it kind of magical finding those little winks here and there.

...You Make it Rock So Heavenly

I know I'm glossing over the Room Service album, unfairly so as there are some real gems on it; Real Sugar, Try (Just a Little Bit Harder), Fool. I'm also incline to stop the narrative here as there was a clear cutoff point in the band's history, a ten year hiatus to be exact, owing in no small part to Marie's health issues. In fact it's actually quite miraculous that we've gotten any new albums, much less three. And for the record, Way Out, No One Makes it On Her Own, and Touched By the Hand of God could mop the floor with the current music scene. But as with everything that exists in reality, things will never be the same.

There's no way to predict the future of Roxette, and frankly every album since Tourism has sounded like a farewell. But the point is, it has been (and for whatever length is left, will be) a joyride. Thank you guys for all of your emotions, and melodies, and dance beats. No one I know will ever keep up with you.

Chasing the Rabbit: Chapter Nine -An Outside Perspective

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Some people believe that rejection is the worst thing that can happen to an idea, and in many cases this is true. But sometimes an idea is best left to germinate a little longer, allowing its seeds to take root in the soil. When the board of directors took so favorably to Oswald's idea, Mickey responded with his characteristically exuberant "Hot dog!" even though he knew from experience that the idea would most likely be smothered before it ever produced anything.

Telling Oswald should have been the easy part. Mickey hadn't realized he was making a rookie mistake until poor Oswald completely flipped out. It took ten minutes of Minnie's intervention to calm him down and demand Mickey tell her what in the world he'd said. Verbatim, Mickey repeated the good news, "The board loved the idea and they want something up and running by the summer," followed by the three words that had caused the rabbit to panic, "of this year."

From there, the mouse and company did what they were best known for doing, pulling together as a team. Oswald and Mickey divided the responsibilities with Oswald handling the overall design and premise of the story, which was what he'd clearly wanted. This took as much pressure off the lucky rabbit as possible to give him room to figure things out. Mickey offered to deal with the casting, and considering his familiarity with the Disney lineup that should have been a smooth process.

Until it wasn't.

Late morning of the following day Mickey and Daisy were working on the official cast call announcement when Humphrey the bear happened to drop by the offices. The duck and mouse informally encouraged him to go out for a spot in the story. Then they set it aside and went to lunch. When they came back, they found over two hundred applications from Silly Symphonies performers alone. The official announcement went out as late that afternoon as they could justify. That was day one.

On day ten, in the interest of containing the chaos, the board made a command decision that there would be seven spots and they would be limited to film characters. Donald graciously offered to deliver the heartbreaking news. Later that day the announcement was amended to read 'feature length film' characters when the definition of the word 'film' was brought into question many, many times. This was further amended two days later to read 'characters with speaking roles' to trim out the background characters, which naturally lead to a bit of tension defusing for Dumbo and Dopey.

The midpoint came fast and Mickey's smile had all but vanished. Probably more had been accomplished on the project than it felt like, but the mouse was hearing the main theme of The Sorcerer's Apprentice in his head on a continuous loop. He sat in the Gideon meeting room with Minnie, Goofy, Pete, the ducks and the chipmunks, trying to determine how close they were to finalizing the lineup.

Minnie stood behind him, rubbing his ears. "So the board wants the classic fairy tale era, the renaissance, and the modern period represented," she said.

"Isn't that half the cast?" asked Daisy.

"I can probably push it from seven to ten," answered Mickey, "but it's still gonna be princess heavy."

"Well, we need to decide quickly on the renaissance," said Daisy. "Ariel and Jasmine are bout to start pulling each other's hair."

Mickey turned to Goofy. "What about Belle?"

"She says she's fine sittin' this one out."

"Okay, we'll come back to that. Let's start with the classic era."

"Y'know," said Chip and/or Dale "it doesn't have to be a princess. The period just has to be represented."

"Maleficent," interjected Pete.

Donald gave him a dismissing look. "Ah, you'll never get her."

"You gimme ten minutes, pipsqueak, and I'll have Maleficent on board wit' dis."

"Well gawrsh, Pete," said Goofy, "She hasn't even applied yet."

"Maleficent don' put in no application! Invitation only! Dat's her policy!"

Mickey put his hands down in surrender. "If you can get her, Pete." He took in a deep breath." All right, what about the modern era?"

"Anna or Elsa," said Donald.

Daisy gave him a displeased look. "You know there are two other films from that period, right?"

Donald silently absorbed the glance for a few seconds before turning back to the group again. "So Anna or Elsa?"

Oswald appeared in the doorway as unobtrusively as he could. Mickey snapped into his professional demeanor as soon as he saw him. "Hey Oswald! How's it goin' on your end?"

The rabbit shifted uncomfortably. "Designing an island is harder than I thought. Do you think the board would mind if I borrowed a map of Neverland as a template?"

"Sure.  You could probably just use Neverland if you don't want to re-invent the wheel."

Oswald blinked. "Can we do that?"

"Uh-huh. You've got access to the entire company catalog. Anything Disney owns is fair game."

"So could I maybe cut and paste Pride Rock into the scenery?"

Minnie chimed in. "You can do whatever you want. Cartoons, movies, attractions. In fact the audience might even enjoy figuring out where everything is from."

"Well, that makes things a lot easier." Oswald scanned the table full of ruffled feathers and tired eyes. "I'm really sorry about all this, you guys."

Mickey's smile didn't change,  but somehow the genuineness behind it had fully awakened. "Oswald, never apologize for an idea. Especially a good one."

"Yeah," chuckled Goofy, "We wouldn't all be sufferin' like this if it weren't a good idea."

"Okay, not exactly helping Goofy," said Daisy, "But the big guy's right. This is all part of the process."

"And it's worth doing'," Donald added.

Smiles around the table greeted the rabbit (except for a half-smile from Pete, which was as good as it got). "Thank you," he sighed. "I guess I just didn't realize this was going to get so out of control."

Mickey trotted over to him, giving him a friendly nudge. "Ah, ya can't control ideas. Best you can do is try to keep up with 'em."

"Well," Oswald grinned, "rabbits are pretty fast."

"And we're all right behind ya!"



The postman dropped the mail off at 43038 Termite Terrace, retrieved by its recipient shortly thereafter. The world's most famous bunny flipped through three fan letters, the water bill, and a few magazine offers before his eyes landed on a curious envelope with the unmistakable three circled insignia of the rival studio. He had only just confirmed it was correctly addressed to him when the familiar yapping of his next door neighbor's son drew his attention.

He knelt down to greet the little bulldog through the gaps in the wooden fence that was more decorative than useful. "Eh, what's up Tyke?"

The puppy barked excitedly, with his tail uncontrollably batting the grass behind him. Bugs reached through with a gloved hand and stroked the back of the dog's neck. A few moments later Spike, the dad appeared, scooping his son and resting his arm on the fence. "Sorry 'bout that Bugs. This little guy got away from me while I was dealin' with a pest control problem."

"I guess some people have to bring work home with 'em,"  the rabbit laughed.

Tyke gave a tiny yap and pawed at the Disney letter, drawing his dad's attention to it. "Whacha got there? You gettin' mail from the mouse house now?"

"Probably another cease and desist letter." He tore it open and scanned quickly through it. "Dear Mr. Bunny...on behalf of the studio...for all your hard work filming Roger Rabbit-" he stopped and gave a puzzled look to Spike. "I was there for a day and a half. Never even learned my lines." They both shrugged and Bugs continued reading in silence. "Really? They want to cast me in a summer program?"

"At Disney?"

"Warner Brothers is never gonna go for that." Bugs re-examined the envelope in disbelief.

"Hey, if I were you I'd go down to the studio to see if they're serious."

"You think so?" Bugs showed the letter to Tyke. "What do you think? Should I check this out?" He received an affirmative bark from the puppy. "Yeah. At the very least I could try to get you Pluto's autograph."

The little tail wagged even harder, but the sound of an explosion on the opposite side of Spike's home abruptly ended the conversation. "Excuse me, Bugs. I have to go murder a woodpecker."

"I'm here if you need me," said Bugs as they scurried off, still a little distracted by the invitation in his hand. He read it three more times, not quite comprehending the rationale behind it. Finally he just gave in.

"Eh, it's Disney. I got nothin' to lose."


Continue to Chapter Ten
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The Wax Buzzard Files: Chapter Three -The Third Chapter in a Series of at Least Three

Previously on The Wax Buzzard Files, a whole bunch of stuff happened; some of which was important. If you want to learn more, then you probably should.

The chase was on! And we were only missing the music. Miss Nomer stomped the accelerator and the tires smudged the floor with tracks as they took off down the hallway. It only took us about twenty minutes to get them reattached to the car; from there it was through the fire escape door, and over the railing. We landed on a watermelon vendor's cart, sending chucks of the stuff half a block in all directions. Fortunately most of it hit a crowd that was coming out of The Gallagher Experience, making the world just a little more poetic.

I glanced back to see that Mr. Happy's henchmen (who for simplicity I'll refer to as Zanzibar and Jake) were right behind us. Miss Nomer gave me a side glance. "Please don't tell me we've got company."

"Okay," I shrugged. "Mind if I turn on the radio?"

A trash can bounced off the windshield. And another. Jerk teenagers throwing trash cans at a speeding car. “I hope you all die!” Miss Nomer shouted at them with such conviction that they really seemed to regret their actions. Last I heard, one of them joined the Peace Corps and did a lot of good work. Punk.

"Are we being followed?" she asked me.

"You just said you didn't want to know."

"Of course I want to know!" she growled. "I just don't want to hear the words 'we've got company'. That phrase really gets under my skin."

“What an esoteric personality quirk,” I observed. “Does it bother you when it’s in quotes? Like, hey, remember a few seconds ago when you told me you didn’t want to hear the words ‘we’ve got company’?”

“Are they back there or not?” she roared.

I checked over my shoulder. "Yep, they're still back there. And there’s no need to growl and roar like that."

“You’re the one choosing the verbs,” she elucidated. I said nothing, but she didn't hear me since I only said it to myself.

Miss Nomer spun the steering wheel to avoid hitting a cute puppy, opting instead to crash through the window of a Hobby Lobby. It was the right call.

"I'm going to try to lose them in the school supply aisle." I don’t know why she needed to tell me that, but one sharp turn to the left later and we were careening past safety scissors and Elmer's glue, leaving a trail of construction paper behind us. And we scared some poor granny in her tracks when I rolled down the window and waggled my fingers at her, going "Bululululuh!”

“I’m going to make a break for the front entrance,” she declared.

I asked if she wanted me to come with her. She shot me a look and we zipped through the sliding glass doors and into the parking lot. I checked over my shoulder. Zanzibar and Jake were exactly where they’d been before. "Still there," I said.

“Hold tight!” she ordered. I threw my arms around her as she weaved the vehicle through back alleys, tunnels, drawbridges, a museum, and a Chuck E. Cheese. She finally slowed down to twenty when we got to a school zone, and I leaned back in the passenger seat.

“You know that wasn’t what I meant,” she told me.

“I know,” I said. “But you seem to be having a bad day. I thought you could use a hug.”

She stared at me with no expression on her face except for a blank expression which I don’t think should count. After a few awkward moments, seven to be exact, she said, “Thank you. That was very thoughtful.”

“Don’t mention it,” I said, knowing full well that it was chronologically impossible at that point. “So if you don’t mind me asking, what happens when you actually do have company?”

"I may have made that out to be a bigger deal than necessary." Her demeanor became much more pleasant, tolerable even. It made me instantly overlook the record number of traffic and health code violations she’d accumulated in the past half hour. She offered me her well-manicured hand. “Catsy.”

I accepted with whatever adverb you can turn the word ‘charmed’ into. “Is that Egyptian?”

“It was supposed to be Cathy. Birth certificate typo.”

“Unlikely,” I said. “The H is four keys to the right of the S. You were named Catsy on purpose.”

“You have quite an attention to detail, Detective Guffey.” She gave me a wink that I didn’t have before.

“Enough to keep me from trying to go up the down escalator,” momentarily losing myself in the reflection of me in her eyes. I needed a haircut.

"Are they still behind us?"

"I'm certain of it," I said, in no uncertain terms.

"You're kidding me!" Catsy checked her six. Zanzibar and Jake gave her a polite wave. "Well why didn't you tell me they were in the back seat?"

It was a disturbingly good question. I didn’t have an answer then, and I don’t have one now.

Catsy sighed. “We may as well grab lunch then. How do you guys feel about the Hibachi Grill?”

I would have preferred a chicken sandwich, simple and light, but I was outvoted. I was sure this was going to be a lunch date I'd never forget. As of this narration, it remains the case.


Don't click here unless you want to get stuck reading Chapter Four.

To Orlando With Love

There comes a point where it's impossible to laugh.

Now I deal with depression so I'm accustomed to not laughing, but it's a different kind of feeling when the primary source is external. Today is June 13, 2016, and there was a mass shooting in Orlando over the weekend.

In this day and age, mass shootings seem to be turning into a bit of a series. I've lost track of how many have made the news over the past several years. As much as I hate saying this, I realized this weekend that a mass shooting is no longer unexpected. It's like car trouble. There's no schedule for it, but deep down inside we all know the next one is inevitable.

Perhaps I deal with the horrible things people are capable of in the only way I know how, I just try my best not to feel them so I can make it through work and then go home and write stories about monsters. But this one, I can't not feel.

Perhaps it's because it's because I lived in Orlando for a very important chapter in my life. Perhaps it's because the shooter was targeting the LGBT community, a portion of our culture which has achieved some very real and needed progressive victories in recent years. Or perhaps it's because this incident summarizes so many of the issues our nation is currently facing, and predictably everything that comes out of Donald Trump's mouth and keypad is going to make things worse.

But the bottom line is, today I feel wounded. Certainly not on a comparability to the families in Orlando. But this blog is my little time capsule in the world, and today I don't feel like laughing.

I didn't feel like laughing yesterday, which was why I didn't go to the Weird Al concert. I've seen pictures, a lot of people did go, and I'm sure Al and the band gave it the professional all that they always have. And I'm sure the people who went to the concert found a way to laugh. And I'm grateful for that. I'm grateful that John Oliver keeps doing his comedy show even when he clearly doesn't feel up to it. The world needs a chance to laugh.

But sometimes, some people need to not laugh. And to feel like it's okay to not be funny, or snarky, or sarcastic. For me that time is now.

So I've been trying to figure out what I want to say in this blog, being the rare moment where I'm purely me without the insipid performer's streak that usually can't seem to function without. And I think it's probably most appropriate for me to celebrate the LGBT community, and all of the wonderful friends I made in the six years I lived and breathed Disney in Orlando.

Homophobia is taught, even if it isn't blatantly taught. In my case, I grew up instilled with a sense of discomfort about it because it was something we didn't talk about, or else we talked about it in an over-dramatized setting. When I started working at Orlando, it was the first environment I'd been in where the LGBT community was not only accepted but also celebrated. And I had the wonderful journey of going from being okay with it to not even noticing it anymore because it was the norm.

Because of that journey, I felt a personal investment when gay marriage was legalized. It was as if the safety of that inclusive community had finally spread from the tunnels under Cinderella Castle and into the real world.

So when some asshole decides he won't be on board with it, to the point that he has some deluded right to take other people's lives, I say fuck him. I say, I'm no longer willing to endure some bullshit obsession with a verse in Leviticus when Christ was clearly preaching love for everyone. And I'm no longer willing to tolerate anti-gun control arguments from people who really need a fucking hobby that doesn't stand a chance of hurting someone else.

May God bless you, Orlando. And thank you for all of the laughs.

Chasing the Rabbit: Chapter Eight -VIP Treatment

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Six months ago...

The Disney studios has many secrets. Some of them are for its own preservation. Others serve its own creative amusement. And then there are those secrets which exist simply because they've become overlooked over time. Club 16 1/2 was a secret of that third variety.

Leftover from the golden years of animation, Club 16 1/2 had been a popular hangout spot for the numerous creatures of Silly Symphony fame when they weren't working in front of or behind the camera lenses. As the studio had evolved throughout the decades, the club entrance wound up facing away from the pedestrian traffic which was already minimal in that part of the grounds; almost like a back door to an unmarked building. In fact, it was unlikely that anyone who had joined the Disney family later than the mid-nineties was even aware of its existence. As such, the club had a bit of a nostalgic charm for the veterans of animation.

The place was now run by Toby Tortoise, who was certainly not the quickest counter-reptile, but he knew the precision ingredients of concoctions long thought lost. Anything from sarsaparilla floats to gooseberry daiquiris; if you knew how to order it, he knew how to make it.

It was a rarity to see any character of reasonable significance cross the threshold, so when Daisy Duck appeared in the doorway she found herself bombarded with greetings from Bucky Bug, Peter Pig, and every other alliterative name on the block. The upside to the inconvenient attention was the extra time it gave Toby to assemble the remainder of the drink order she'd called in.

"There ya go, Miss Duck," the tortoise gleamed triumphantly, "One pitcher of chocolate marshmallow Cointreau. What's the occasion?"

"It's Oswald's homecoming. Finally. Mickey thought a taste of the classic era would be a nice touch."

"Oswald?" said Toby, clearly behind the event. "When did we get him back?"

"Oh, you know..." Daisy held her tongue. It had been ten years since the trade, and the lucky rabbit was just now being given an office space. "Recently."

"Hey soda jerk!" came an irritated voice at the end of the counter. "Is this the self-service line?"

"Be right there, sir?" said Toby cheerfully.

Daisy cocked her head to the side. She knew that unmistakable lisp anywhere.

"Daffy?"

It was him; the little black duck with the white collar from the other terrace. He looked in her direction with two of the saddest eyes she'd ever seen on a duck. Daisy waddled over to him, passing Toby along the way.

"How did you get here?" she asked.

Daffy held up his keychain ID with the Roger Rabbit production stamp on it. "You guys have some really outdated security systems. And yet I still can't get a fast pass with it."

Daisy sat down at the neighboring stool. "Has something happened?"

Daffy set his beak on the countertop. "No. I just come here to think. Clear my head. Mope. And you? What's a VIP like you doing in the treasure vault like this?"

"Today is Oswald's official first day as an executive."

"Great," snorted Daffy. "More power to the rabbits."

The two ducks sat in silence while Toby made the last few steps over to the end of the counter. "And what can I get for my fine feathered friends?"

Daffy waved his hand dismissively. "Just give me something I'm gonna hate."

Daisy smiled. "Tom and Jerry, declawed".

Toby nodded and began the hike back to the other end of the counter. "Take your time," Daffy muttered, "I'm not going anywhere."

Daisy waited until the tortoise was respectfully out of earshot to speak again. "So what is this about Daffy?"

The WB duck drew in a slow breath. "It's really nothing out of the ordinary. It just gets to me sometimes. He gets to me."

"Bugs?"

"That carrot chomping, overbite-" Daffy erupted before realizing every other patron had taken notice of his conversation. "Yeah. Some days, it just really ruffles my feathers. I guess today is one of those days."

"So, do I understand that after seventy-five years, you still feel like he stole your thunder?"

"I don't know." Daffy set his bill in his hand. "I don't know what I'm feeling."

"I mean, if you don't mind me saying, didn't you horn in on Porky's territory?"

"Nah, Porky was fine with it. But the studio takes this sadistic glee in pitting us against each other. And it's ALWAYS the same result. 'Let's laugh at the duck'."

Daisy gave him a compassionate nod. "You're still getting laughs Daffy. They may be written at your expense, but people love you a lot more than you realize. I mean, don't you think anyone in this room would give their golden voice actor for your career?"

Daffy sighed. "Yeah, they are pretty pathetic, aren't they?" He checked his watch, dreading the ritual pummeling the studio had him scheduled for later that day. "What about you? Don't you ever get tired of playing second banana to that bow-headed rodent?"

"Well yes and no," Daisy admitted. "I always grumble inside a little whenever I walk past her statue on the Main Street hub. But then I think, second banana isn't a bad place to be. There's a certain freedom when eyes aren't always on you, and you don't always have to live up to the company's expectations. The top just seems boring to me."

Daffy's face softened a little. Maybe not to the point of smiling, but his disposition became a hair more optimistic. "You are one cel of Iwerks, Daisy."

She giggled. "I'll take that as a compliment."

Toby had returned with their drink orders, and each duck picked up their respective glasses.

"Just try not to forget," said Daisy, "We have something a lot of people don't have. A reason. For doing what we do."

Daffy sneered. "The stupid little kids."

Daisy clinked her glass against his. "To the stupid little kids then," and they both drank.

Daffy's mouthful never made it down his throat, as he spat it out almost instantly before giving Toby an accusatory glare. "CARROT JUICE?"



And several stories up in the executive building, Pete was beating a keyboard into submission with his index fingers while crooked letters and symbols popped up all over the computer screen. Mickey Mouse and Oswald the Lucky Rabbit stood on the sidelines, amazed at the sheer passion the large cat-dog-bear-whatever hybrid was investing in the task at hand.

Pete leaned back into the poor easy chair that was straining to support his weight. Satisfied with the mess of code he was seeing, Pete turned to Oswald and gestured to the security checkpoint. "Dere. Dat should do it."

Oswald stepped through the archway, greeted by a green light accompanied by a pleasant ding.

"It's official, you're in the system!" Mickey laughed. "Swell job Pete!"

The big guy ignored the compliment. "Bout time too. Now listen runt, this here's my pal! I expect ya to take good care a'him, see?"

Mickey gave him a half-serious salute. "Sure thing, Pete. You can count on me."

"And you!" He pointed at Oswald, never having quite figured out the difference between 'encouraging' and 'threatening'. "Doncha be afraid to speak up, ya hear? You and me've been in dis business longer'an anyone here. You got ideas? You make 'em listen to ya. You got it?"

Oswald nodded his head. "I got it. Thanks Pete."

"Now off with the both of ya! Some of us got work ta do."

Mickey just shook his head, giving Oswald a smile. He followed the rabbit through the archway, which suddenly lit up in red lights while the sound of an elderly woman's scream filled the hallway on a loop. Pete gave them both an embarrassed look, followed by a grimace when batting the side of the monitor didn't solve the problem. He finally just shooed them both out of the room with assurances that he could "fix dat".

The mouse and rabbit scurried down the hall passing Clarabelle and Donald, both of whom had poked their heads out to see what was going on. They breathed easy once they got to where they could hear themselves again. "Gosh, Oswald. I had no idea you and Pete were so close."

"Hey, I'm as surprised as you are," said Oswald. "I guess age leads to sentiment."

"Well, welcome aboard!"

Mickey led the rabbit into the main reception area, presenting it like it was a World's Fair exhibit. Oswald had been up there a few times before, but the furniture had been rearranged to accommodate several tables and chairs for the in-house lunch that was going to take place later. From the ceiling hung a banner that read 'Welcome Home Oswald'. Several staff members of varying species stepped away from their work to applaud his entrance.

Oswald blushed. "You guys didn't have to do this for me."

"Aw, it's the least we could do. That's Wendy, from H&R. Belle is our resident librarian. And I think you've met everybody else."

Oswald waved politely. "So this is where the magic happens."

"Nah, the real magicians are downstairs in the studio. This is where the seeds of magic are planted. Come on, I'll show you your desk. You're gonna love the view." Mickey guided Oswald down the side wing, pointing out the music hall and two meeting rooms. "Gideon and Foulfellow," he chuckled. "Named for their size. There're schedules on the doors in case anybody really needs 'em, but otherwise you can just go in there whenever. And this-"

Mickey ushered him into a nearly empty room with a small desk and chair and white grease boards for walls. On the desk sat a stack of paper and a single black marker. It was almost like walking into a blank page. For Oswald, it was perfect.

Mickey continued. "-is your home base. In a half hour or so, Horace'll bring the idea wagon around. I told him to give you first dibs on anything that strikes your fancy."

"How do ideas get in the idea wagon in the first place?"

"The board meets at least once a week. Anything that might have potential goes in the wagon."

Oswald sat in the chair, adjusted the height, and gave it a test spin. "And how do ideas get to the board?"

"Everybody's doors are always open. Like Pete says, if ya got something," Mickey pre-emptively giggled at his own joke, "I'm all ears."

Oswald leaned back in his chair and fidgeted with his marker, debating whether or not this was the time. He decided there wasn't a time, except for the one you made. "New stories with old characters."

"Like, sequels?"

"No, like crossovers. Like House of Mouse but without the cartoons." Oswald took a beat to see how Mickey reacted. It didn't seem like the mouse was entirely sold on the idea, so Oswald pushed it a little more. "What if the queen from Snow White had to stand trial for her actions, and they held it in the court from Mr. Toad? Or how would Lambert the Sheepish Lion be treated in Zootopia? Disney has a vast landscape of characters who got one shot at the limelight. What if we dropped those boundaries and let anybody interact with anybody else?"

Mickey shifted uncomfortably. "Gosh, I don't know. Do you really want somebody like Chernabog wanderin' around Sherwood Forest?"

"Well, that's just one example that doesn't work. What about somebody like Lampwick? Didn't you feel like there was a lot more to that story? Suppose Kenai finds him. Or maybe the lost boys are able to help the rest of those donkeys. Or what about the coachman? He never gets any comeuppance. Suppose he kidnaps a child and it shows up on the radar of the Rescuers."

Mickey had to admit, the idea had potential. In fact, there were a lot of possibilities. He still didn't think the board would go for it, at least not in the way Oswald was pitching it. But the rabbit clearly believed in the idea. And that had to count for something.

"If you don't mind me asking," said Mickey, "what was it that inspired this?"

Oswald absentmindedly popped the top off his marker and replaced it. "I have a second chance. To shine. To prove that there's life in me. How many others are there who want that, and never get it?" He lay the marker back on the desk and sat up straight in his chair. "There are a lot of great personalities in the Disney family and we only got to scratch their surface. I want them to have a shot."

Mickey smiled at Oswald, not his default smile, but a deeply personal one that only a select few had ever seen. "You're right," he said. "I'll pitch it to the board this afternoon."

"I mean," said Oswald, "The worst thing that can happen is they say 'no', right?"


Continue to Chapter Nine
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Chasing the Rabbit: Chapter Seven -One Step at a Time

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"What were you looking at Ape-man?" said Bagheera, speaking only to himself as he pushed the foliage to the side.

Several branches below him Jasmine was refusing to stay where he'd told her to, determined to continue the dangerous climb on her own. The panther had to admire her panache. For someone who appeared to be so fragile, the princess was not afraid of high places. "Did you say something?" she asked.

"Just thinking aloud." He leapt to a nearby limb and searched the brush again. This was the spot where he and Tarzan had their encounter and Bagheera was curious what the man had been so focused on. He'd invited Jasmine along as he found her to be the most agreeable of the man-pride, and he wanted the perspective of human eyes.

He finally found what he thought he was looking for; a crystal-like circle, about the size of a human paw, with a red glow emitting from within. "Here we go," he called to Jasmine, pleased that she had nearly scrambled up to the branch he was on. He batted at it, but the thing was wedged tightly into the nook of the tree. "What do you make of this?"

Bagheera scampered out of the way and Jasmine examined it, tapping on the surface. "It almost looks like a gemstone," she said, "but maybe not as solid. I think human hands made this." She pressed one eye against the surface. "I think there's something moving inside."

"Like a bird?"

"No more like a smaller circle twisting ever so slightly. Almost mechanical." She sighed. "I wish Genie were here. He'd know exactly what this is."

"This Genie? Does he invent things?"

"Not exactly." She lay her ear against the tree's trunk trying to find any unexpected sounds from within. "He's a magical being with thousands of years of experience. And since he hasn't found us yet, I'm really scared that something terrible has happened in Agrabah."

Jasmine listened to the trunk for a few moments before giving up on the approach. She took another minute to stare at the object in front of her, hoping for some bit of wisdom or insight, which never came. She never heard the voices from the other side pleading for her to hear them. She never saw the waving hands desperately trying to be seen. She only saw a circle twisting from within, and a red glow.

"I'm sorry I couldn't be of more help." She wrapped her arms around the panther's strong neck and prepared for a very fast journey downwards.

"No matter," Bagheera smiled. "We may have at least learned something."

"Really? What's that?"

"That someone has been here before us."



Back at the beach, construction on the larger shelter had been going smoothly, all things considered. Kronk had been an absolute machine when it came to splitting logs, and Tarzan was particularly adept at knowing how to lash them together. The two men had intuitively taken to cooperation with very little discussion.

Elsa had been off by herself collecting fronds that she thought might help keep out the rain. Kronk assured her that he was happy to tackle that assignment once he was done with the lumber, but Elsa insisted. She told him she didn't want to feel like an extraneous component; trying very hard not to glance in Frollo's direction, who seemed preoccupied with thinking a lot.

Tarzan balanced on the roof's frame when Elsa handed him her first batch of fronds. She mouthed the words "I'm sorry," but refused to make eye contact.

The ape-man was about to say something when a loud thunderclap-like sound struck from the nearby jungle, displacing several birds from their perches.

"What was that?" asked Kronk.

Tarzan stared undeterred in the direction of the sound. "Clayton," he said.

The other three looked at him curiously. "Clayton?" said Frollo. "Clayton who?"

Tarzan reproduced the sound with his own voice, causing Elsa to jump. "Clayton," he repeated.

Frollo rolled his eyes. "You are an idiot."

Elsa turned to Kronk. "Jasmine and Bagheera."

"Yeah, they could be in trouble." The big man broke into a sprint towards the direction of the sound. He was joined by Tarzan, who'd jumped from the top of the structure.

They only made it a few steps when the foliage separated revealing a strange shape with a bright light shining behind it. It appeared human but somewhat deformed in the face. On its head were long appendages that looked like horns in the backlight.

For a second everyone froze, and only Frollo could muster the will to say anything. "What demon is this?"

"RUN" came a voice, shrill yet somehow whispered. And in an instant the shape was gone leaving only a bright light that momentarily blinded everyone, followed by another 'Clayton'. One of the structure's logs splintered in all directions from a sharp force. Elsa stifled a scream while everyone else instinctively dropped to the sand. And as quickly as it had come, the being and the light was gone.

Again, Frollo had to speak first. "You see? This place is cursed!"

Kronk fruitlessly tried calming him. "Hold your horses there. We are in a jungle-"

"We need a BOAT not a residence! That demon could be anywhere!"

"No," said Tarzan. "Not demon."

Frollo shot him a look. "Oh, what do you know, you monosyllabic bushman? You probably worship the thing."

"Look, big guy," Kronk set his big palm on Frollo's shoulder. "I hear you on the boat idea. Once we find Jasmine and Bagheera, what's say we regroup and come up with a new plan?"

"We don't need the input of that egotistical-"

"Elsa!" barked Tarzan, both to shut Frollo up and direct his attention where it needed to be. Elsa propped herself against one of the nearby palm trees, pressing both hands against the left of her abdomen.

Kronk started in her direction but Elsa put up her hand. "Stay back!" She was bleeding.

"No!" cried Tarzan. He bounded across half the distance between them.

"Please!" she shrieked with a mixture of tears in her eyes.

"Elsa," he said as calmly as he could. "Tarzan help Elsa. Elsa trust Tarzan."

Elsa kept her hand up for a time. She'd been very lucky around Jasmine during the yeti attack, and since then she'd managed to hide her magic from everyone else. Except Tarzan, but he didn't seem to understand what it was. Now that Elsa was wounded, she really didn't think she'd be able to contain it. But she'd promised her sister that she'd try; try to let others in, to risk opening up. And the pain from the loose shard of wood that had found its way into her waist was becoming unbearable.

She hesitantly lowered her hand. "Elsa trust Tarzan."

Several yards away, Frollo huffed, "She's going to attract every beast on this island by nightfall."

Kronk gave him an optimistic smirk. "One step at a time, buddy."


Continue to Chapter Eight.
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