Recycling Center: 8-Track Edition

For those of you who did not see it in person last night, I give you my latest 8-Track opus, No-One Dies at Disney World:

* * *

Two uniformed Disney World employees, JIM and MARY, RUN IN.

MARY
Crap. Oh crap, oh crap, oh crap.

JIM
Keep it together, Mary! Tell me what happened.

MARY
One of the Disney janitors—I’m sorry, “Sanitary Imagineers”—accidentally dropped some bleach into the quote-unquote water in It’s a Small World After All, creating a poisonous cloud of chlorine gas. They’re dead! They’re all dead!

JIM
Jesus. I guess it’s a smaller world after now.

MARY
There were 101 people on that ride! This is the biggest Disney-related death since they rebuilt The Haunted Mansion on that ancient Indian burial ground! (remembering) Thank God Pocahantas interceded…

JIM
Look, mass amusement park deaths are just part of the circle of life. You’ve seen The Lion King. The important thing now is disposal.

MARY
Disposal?

JIM
Right, you’re a newbie. I guess you haven’t finished the handbook. People can’t die here. This is Disney World! “The Happiest Place On Earth,” registered trademark. If someone passes, they’re stuck in an ambulance, so the death certificate says they die off-premises. But so many dead at once…things get tricky.

MARY
Then what…?

JIM
Don’t worry. I called Mr. Fox. Think of him as the biggest Sanitary Imagineer of them all. He should be here any…

THE FOX enters. He is no-nonsense and rapid-fire.

FOX
All right, kids, time is precious, so let’s dispense with formalities. When I tell you to do something, all I want to hear is “Yes Mr. Fox.” “Bre’r Fox,” if you must. Better yet, “Sir.” As I hear it, we’ve got a hundred park-goers who ain’t ever gonna be happy again, and wishing on a star won’t bring ‘em back. (To Mary) Your name?

MARY
Mary.

FOX
Mary, I want you to round up all the full-body character costumes that you can—your Mickeys, your Donalds, your Daisys, your Goofys, your Chips, your Dales, your Grumpys, Sleepys, Dopeys, Sneezys, Happys, Bashfuls, Docs, your Chilly Willys…

JIM
Chilly Willy’s not ours, sir.

FOX
Do I look like I give a fuck? (back to Mary) And you stuff ‘em all full of stiffs. We’re carting those flesh-trippers outta here incognito, get it?

Mary nods

FOX
Then make like Dumbo and fly, unless you want tomorrow’s Orlando Sentinel to read “Tragic Kingdom!”

Mary RUNS OFFSTAGE.

JIM
Thanks, sir—that could’ve been bad.

FOX
Well, let’s not start singing Zippity Doo Dah just yet. What’s your name, kid?

JIM
Jim.

FOX
(lighting cigar) Jim, I want you to round up as many laundry trucks as you can. We’re gonna smuggle those costumes out like Unca Walt’s dirty undies.

JIM
But all our trucks are waterlogged, thanks to that typhoon off Typhoon Lagoon.

FOX
Crap on a corn dog! If only those eggheads over in Tomorrowland spent less time making Michael Jackson 3-D, and more time inventing a de-corpseylator, like I asked! (to self) Think, man, think!

Mary RE-ENTERS, dragging a DEAD TOURIST, dressed like Mickey Mouse.

MARY
Mr. Fox, sir! We’ve packed the bodies into the costumes and…

FOX
Nix, you dizzy broad! Never bring a deadhead out in the open! What if a kid saw…

A CHILD enters, eating some cotton candy. He looks around, wide-eyed—not, for the moment, seeing the others. The Fox makes a series of militaristic hand gestures, pointing first to the child, then to his eyes, shaking his head vehemently. He points to the corpse, then pats his own shoulders.

Mary and Jim get the idea, and they hoist the body up between them, Weekend at Bernies-style. The Fox ducks back behind the body, and thrusts his arms out from beneath its armpits.

He’s just in time. The child turns around and spots the body, running over to it.

CHILD
(hugging the corpse) Mickey!

FOX
(high-pitched Mickey voice) Well hello there, young fellow! Gosh it’s sure nice to see you! Say, Mickey isn’t feeling so well right now, so why don’t you run along to Space Mountain. (producing a DVD) If you go now, I’ll give you this copy of Lilo and Stitch!

CHILD
(less than enthused) Uh… Thanks, Mickey.

He runs off. The others drop “Mickey” to the ground.

FOX
Okay, Plan B: Load all the bodies onto the monorail, and swing over to Epcot. If we’re lucky, we can stick ‘em in the pneumatic tube, and shoot ‘em over to Universal Studios—then it’s their problem.

MARY
Epcot has a tube that can do that?

FOX
Wise up, kid. Why do you think Epcot was built?

JIM
(starting to pick Mickey up) Thanks for your help sir. I think we’re gonna be all right. For a minute, I was afraid we’d have to unfreeze Walt.

The Fox angrily nods towards Mary, and makes a throat-slashing “shut up” motion.

MARY
Unfreeze… Walt?

JIM
I’m sorry, Mary. I forgot your security clearance is only Goofy Level.

MARY
You mean the stories are true?

FOX
(distracting her) Say, Mary. Do you know the Mickey Mouse Club Theme?

MARY
(confused) Uh… Sure I do. (singing) M-I-C…

The Fox takes out a gun and SHOOTS HER DEAD.

FOX
C you real soon. Y? Because you know too much. (to Jim) Load her in with the others.

Jim stands a moment, immobile with shock. The Fox comes over and places a hand on his shoulder.

FOX (cont'd)
Forget it, Jim. It’s Disney World.

BLACKOUT.