Walking in silence, Walt came to a stop in front of the eighty-foot-tall red and white rocketship called the Moonliner that stood at the entrance to the Rocket to the Moon ride. Staring up at it, he shook his head disgustedly and for some reason unknown to Wolf mumbled, “Pizza.”
“You hungry, boss?”
Lost in the moment, he had forgotten the security guard was next to him. Parts of the hallucination, the vision, plagued him and had been playing over and over in his mind for twenty years now. “No.” To cover his lapse, he let out a nervous laugh. “Just thinking.” His glance fell on The Flying Saucers ride. Moving on a cushion of air, the futuristic-looking saucers were a variation of the bumper cars idea and were just then being pushed back to the landing area by the long sweep arm. The attraction had a history of being on-again/off-again. But Walt wasn’t thinking about the temperamental ride. The memory of the tall, white spires of something called Space Mountain overlapped the out-in-the-open Saucers that just happened to be working that day. “Hmm, a roller coaster inside a dark ride…. Is our future of 1985 wrong?”
Not sure if the question was for him or just random thoughts as his boss considered building something new for his Park, Wolf wasn’t sure what to say. “Planning something new?”
“Always.” Walt’s mutter would have been too low to hear for anyone but Wolf. He glanced up at the well-known face of the guard. “You’ve been with me for how long? Forever, Wolf?”
The serious demeanor cracked into a rare smile. “Yeah, something like that, Walt.”
“You’re a good man.” With a far-away look in his troubled eyes, Walt turned to head to New Orleans Square. He needed to look in on the progress of the finishing work on the streets. Before he took two steps, he realized the security guard was still following him. Stopping in his tracks, he dismissed Wolf. “Hey, thanks again for my notebook.”
Wolf just smiled as Walt walked off, head down and writing something else in the little book he had pulled out of his sweater’s stretched-out pocket. The guard’s sapphire blue eyes narrowed. “Don’t worry, Walt.” He watched until his boss passed through the fort entrance of Frontierland and out of his sight. “You won’t lose that diary. It’s too important.”
“Don’t use the Internet. Don’t use the Internet.” Todd hadn’t learned anything new and had begun to chant to himself as he listened in on the talk between Peter and his brother. If the boy didn’t say anything out loud, he was sunk. “Call the girl on the phone, you pampered brat.”
Not knowing they were under surveillance, Peter had recounted the trip on the Lilly Belle to his somewhat interested brother. Michael was too distracted by the puppy he had snuck up the stairs, and was busy hoping she wouldn’t piddle in Peter’s room.
“So, I need to let Catie know what I found inside the new capsule.” Peter’s voice got louder in Todd’s earpiece as he neared the spot where he had dropped his backpack. “Hey, is Dug chewing on my sock?”
A low growl was heard as Michael tried to pull the black sock from the clamped jaws of the puppy. “She’s stronger’n she looks.” Enjoying the antics, the younger boy continued to mutter as he tugged. Sensing a new game, Dug lowered her head and shook the sock side to side, her plump rump high in the air, long tail wagging. Delighted, she gave a sharp yap which allowed Michael to free Peter’s sock. Promptly waving the sock in her face again, Michael laughed when she clamped down again and pulled backwards.
Peter gave a sigh. He could tell Michael didn’t care about the new clue and he could also see that he was going to need a new pair of socks. “I’m going to see if Catie’s online.” With Michael’s defection, he was basically talking to himself as he sat at his desk and pushed aside his homework.
“Dang it!” Todd yelled into the empty living room of his apartment in Brea. “Now how am I going to know where they go next? Stupid puppy.” The sound of playful growling could easily be heard through his earpiece. Apparently the game of tug-of-war had gotten closer to the backpack. In spite of himself, Todd smiled at the play he could hear. He had had a puppy growing up. As one finger tapped the side of the soda he was drinking, he idly wondered what kind of dog this pup was.
Are you there? Peter typed.
Just a sec. BRB.
The ‘sec’ drug out to a couple of minutes as Peter waited, staring at the cursor on his screen as it blinked on and off. Hey! he tried again.
Hey, yourself. Had to see what mom wanted. What’s up?
Thought you’d want to hear about the next clue. He smiled to himself and waited to see how well the tease would work.
OMG! What is it? I’ve been dying to hear from you!
Peter smiled at the screen. He could picture her face actually saying, “OMG.” Not liking to type all that well, Peter tried to figure out how to say it in the least possible words. Capsule smaller than others and had another key and note.
What did it say????????!!!!!!!
Peter shook his head. Girls. It said Get Thee to the Nunnery. Bring a shovel and don’t mess up the Ink & Paint.
IDK what that means.
“I don’t either,” the boy muttered out loud. Have to do research. Want to help?
Can I?????!!!!!! What do I do? I’ve never done this before. What about Michael?
Peter stared at the screen, his hands frozen over the keyboard. What about Michael? He had started this game with his brother, but now Michael seemed more interested in the puppy. Would it be all right to keep going with Catie now? She seemed eager to help and they had been friends forever. Peter glanced over at the antics still going on in his room. It looked like Michael was now using the abused sock to blot up some piddle on his carpet. He shook his head and started to type again. Ok for you to help. Mike busy with Dug. See what you can find about Nunnery and Ink and Paint. Gotta go. Dug messed in my room.
LOL!!!! Don’t let your mom see! I’ll get back to you later. TTFN. Catie.
What’s TTFN? he wrote back, a quizzical grin on his face.
Ta Ta For Now, ROTFL!!!!
Bye, he typed and logged off, his eyes still rolling. Maybe he should rethink using his eleven-year old friend as his partner now. “Hey, Mikey, it’s okay if Catie helps me with the next clue, right?”
Glad he wasn’t getting yelled at for the dark stain on Peter’s carpet, Michael grabbed up Dug in his arms and started for the door. “I think she needs to go outside again. Uh, yeah, I guess. Did you guys find something?”
Peter opened his mouth to answer, but Michael was already out the door and headed down the hallway. Mikey’s interest level didn’t seem to include waiting for, or caring, about the answer to his question. When Peter heard Michael thump down the stairs, he muttered to himself as he stared at the torn, smelly sock that was left behind in the middle of the room, “Guess I have my answer. Catie it is.”
After the success with the first clue, Peter repeated the way he had solved the mystery. Once he was in his favorite search engine, he typed in ‘Walt Disney Nunnery’ and hoped for the best. As he started scrolling, his face fell. “I have to go to Disneyland in Hong Kong? How am I going to pull that off? No, it can’t mean that. I don’t remember Dad or Mom ever talking about Walt going to Hong Kong.”
Not even wanting to consider that was the answer, Peter kept on the search. He found links to a Disney movie that featured a nunnery, numerous people who had that last name, and more than a few people who were educated in convents.
When he switched his search to ‘Ink and Paint,’ he was dismayed to find over five million results. “This is going to take a while,” he groaned. He was onto page seven when he realized he hadn’t narrowed the search down to ‘Disney Ink and Paint.’ “Hmmph, that’s better. At least it is under a million results.”
As he continued to scroll, he eventually saw something that recurred quite often, something that made him sit closer to the computer screen. “That’s more like it. The Disney Studio.”
Pulling up random articles, he found the clue could possibly refer
to that important department in the Burbank Studio. He read how Walt liked to use women rather than men in that department because he thought they had a lighter, steadier hand at the delicate work. There were numerous articles that highlighted different women who came into some prominence after getting a start in Ink and Paint—including Walt’s wife, Lillian. But, he couldn’t find any reference to a nunnery within the Studio. Thinking it meant a place where nuns lived, Peter couldn’t see a connection.
Looking back at the subject line he had typed in the search engine, he decided to run all the words together and see what happened.
To his delighted surprise, he scrolled down and saw his answer immediately. “That’s what the Ink and Paint Department was called because of all the women who worked there. Bingo!”
Excited by his find, he kept reading and found there was a little side court between the Ink and Paint department and the Paint Room where all the colors were stored. Near the more prominent Animation Building, this court was also a No-Man’s Land where the ladies could take their breaks and then get back to work. There were benches, a tree and a few bushes that lined the two buildings.
Looking at the bushes, Peter thought he knew what he needed to do. “Bring a shovel,” he repeated. “I just need to dig up something Walt left there.” His smile faded. “How am I going to pull that off? First, it’s No-Man’s Land, and second, don’t you think someone is going to notice a kid digging up their flowerbed?” Frustrated, he threw his body back in the chair. Then he came up with one more problem. “How will I even get onto the Studio property in the first place? Like Dad said, it’s not open to the public…. Wolf? No, I can’t ask him for another favor so soon. He might get suspicious and ask what I’m doing. Mom? No, she only knows people inside Disneyland. Dad?” Peter paused and looked at his screensaver that had just clicked on. Images of their family’s trip to Walt Disney World in Florida filtered past his unseeing eyes. He moved his head side to side as he pondered the pros and cons of asking his dad. Lance seemed to know everyone everywhere they went. But, Peter realized he’d better have a really good reason to ask his dad to drive him all the way to the studio in Burbank.
Logging back in, he decided to let Catie know what he had found. He anticipated a lot of exclamation points in her response.
“The Studio? In Burbank? Why does the brat need to go to the Ink and Paint Department?” Todd pushed the small earpiece further into his ear as if that would make Peter read him the whole clue out loud. “C’mon, kid, read me the rest of it. I know you can’t get on the lot either. Shoot. I should’ve grabbed his backpack once they got off the train.”
Todd wandered into his kitchen as he listened, randomly opening cupboards in a wasted attempt to find something to eat. “Okay, out to dinner or go to the store? Out to dinner.” The decision was immediate as he grabbed some money out of one of the wallets he had stolen. “And, thank you, Mr. Enright,” he chuckled as he tossed the now-empty brown billfold back onto the pile.
Earpiece still in place, he headed for his parking space. As much as he was ready to grab the clues and take whatever treasure was at the end of the quest for himself, Todd was also beginning to view his voyeurism as a type of entertainment—almost like an ongoing soap opera that starred people he actually knew. Walt Disney and the Brentwoods. Yeah, that would be a good title. One man in the past and one family in the future. How will their worlds collide?
Todd started to chuckle as he shoved his older model Toyota into gear and backed out. “I should’ve been in advertising.”
Burbank – September 25, 1957
The camera panned back into the darkness and the eerie music faded away as a smiling Walt Disney was suddenly seen in the one bright spot of light. As the darkness melted away, he raised his right arm to point at a wall of shelves and filing cabinets that were just coming into view. “Don’t be scared,” he admonished with a mischievous twinkle in his eye. “It’s just me. You see, the name Morgue doesn’t have to mean something spooky or dead. What we have here behind us are shelves and tables and file cabinets that hold the whole history of our motion picture studio.”
Walking over to the first low set of cabinets, Walt pointed out various props and set pieces from different movies. “We shot many great films here in this Studio. Pinocchio, Dumbo, Bambi, Cinderella, Peter Pan and many others. And these,” his arm swept in a wide arc, “are the models, sketches, drawings, storyboards, and backgrounds for every film we’ve made. This is all our experience, and experience is the key to progress.”
The camera followed Walt as he walked under a doorway that had Peter Pan posted overhead. “As you can see, our Morgue isn’t a place of death. Once we finished a picture, we had to make room for the next project. Everything we’d used for that story had to be put somewhere. So, this huge room beneath the Ink and Paint Building became the finished film’s final resting place. It might house the ghosts of our Animation Past, but we hope that all our retired research and artwork will help inspire artists in the future to go on to bigger and greater work.”
Walt walked back into the first room and gave the small globe sitting on a cabinet a spin. “Now let me introduce you to our first True-Life Fantasy.” A smile on his face, he clasped his hands together. “His name is Perri and this is the tale of the little guy’s life in the forest. Take it away, boys!” With a small salute, Walt signed off with his trademark grin as the camera faded back to black.
Fullerton – Current Day
“Dad!”
Lance gave a moan. He knew that tone of voice. Peter wanted something. Slipping down a little lower in the leather chair behind his desk, Lance hoped Peter wouldn’t see him in the darkened office. No such luck.
“Dad, there you are. You hurt your back or something?”
Lance sat back upright and needlessly fiddled with the papers in front of him. “No, I’m fine. What’s up?”
“You remember Mr. George?”
The name coming out of the blue meant nothing to Lance. “How many guesses do I get? Is it animal, vegetable, or mineral?”
“He’s my history teacher, Dad. You just met him at the Parent/Teacher thingy last month.”
Now Lance had a face to go with the name. Mr. George was Peter’s favorite teacher, probably ever. “Yeah, I know.” Lance tried to cover over his lapse. “What about him? You fail a test or something? You need me to go beat him up?”
Peter gave a cheeky smile. “I get A’s in that class and you know it. I really enjoy all that history stuff.”
“Yeah, I know.” Lance was honest that time. He was actually pretty proud of all the extra assignments Peter did for that class. It will be interesting to see what his son did in the future with his knowledge of history. “So, what about Mr. George?”
“Well, you know Teacher Appreciation Day is coming up.” Peter broke off when he saw his dad’s eyes drift toward the calendar on the wall. “Next week, Dad. On Tuesday.”
“Right. And….”
“And I wanted to get Mr. George something really nice. Something different.”
Uh oh, here it comes. Lance managed to keep a straight face when he saw that Peter was attempting to lead him into something. “Different,” he echoed. “What’d you have in mind? Hey! How about a puppy? I know where we can get a cute little girl puppy.” Worth a shot, he thought to himself. She’s right out back.
Peter let the reference to Dug slide and tried to play it cool. “Well, I was thinking it should be something not everyone else could get. You know, like a pen set or maybe a coffee mug from the Studio in Burbank.”
Lance was not expecting that. “Um, that would be nice, Pete. But the Studio isn’t open to the public. You know that.”
“Yeah, I know.” Peter nodded enthusiastically and saw his opening. “That’s why it’s such a good idea.”
“The Studio isn’t open to the public,” Lance slowly repeated.
Peter gave him a smile that Lance immediately recognized. He had used it often enough himself. �
��But I figured you could do anything, Dad.”
“That’s laying it on a little too thick, Peter,” Lance counseled with a sly smile. He studied his oldest son for a moment. Maybe there was something to his request that he didn’t see so far. “Is it that important to you?”
Sensing a victory was coming, Peter managed to keep his facial expression neutral and just nodded quietly.
Lance looked out of the window next to his desk. Michael and Andrew were playing with that puff ball of a dog again. It didn’t help Lance’s attitude toward the dog to know that the pup’s mother, Sunnee, weighed in at one hundred pounds. Bringing his mind back to Peter’s request, he knew all it would take would be one phone call to any of his numerous friends who might be at work at the Studio that day. He had a sneaking suspicion Peter knew that fact, too. Still, Lance decided to let his son sweat it out for a couple of hours. “Well, let me think about it and I’ll get back to you.”
Peter opened his mouth to say something, but wisely clamped it shut again. “Thanks, Dad.”
As his son reluctantly turned and left the office, Lance gave a huge smile behind Peter’s back. The moment Peter was out of sight and hearing range, Lance picked up the phone and dialed Norm at the Studio. It would be great to see some of his old friends again.
At noon the following Saturday, Lance and Peter pulled into the Buena Vista Street entrance of the Disney Studio. On duty in the small guardhouse, Norm greeted the two Brentwoods and handed them white I.D. cards to clip onto their shirts. “Long time, no see, Lance.” Norm then told Lance to park in front of the trailers used by the celebrities who filmed at the nearby soundstage. Since it was the weekend, most of the stages were dark. “Where’ve you been? Everyone’s been asking about you.”
Lance leaned against the side of his Jaguar while Peter slipped on his backpack. “Dad!” Peter interrupted them, correctly assuming that the two men were about to launch into a lengthy discussion about all their mutual friends. “Can I go get a couple of pictures of the Roy and Minnie statue? It’s in the Disney Legend Plaza. I’ll only be a minute.”
Hidden Mickey Adventures 1 Page 9
