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-1-
It all started that morning at an Anaheim Wal-Mart. Jordan Cooper, and another employee of the Revelation Records Company(who shall remain nameless due to certain legal procedings still pending with the Disney Corporation) were perusing the mind-boggling selection of canned goods and considering splitting a dimebag of Sam's Choice Peanut Butter Cups. The conversation eventually lead them into one of the huge store's many candy aisles.
There, Jordan discovered a warehouse-sized bag of corn chips that was already open. Some mischievous little hood had slit a hand-sized hole into the packaging, and had probably been sneakily picking at the contents during his mom's quest for Kathie Lee Casuals.
The barbeque corn chips were remarkably fresh, despite the obvious tampering. He shoveled an unhealthy dose of the wavy salted snack into his salivating feed hole.
Just then, his throat tightened into a knot. "CODE BLUE! CODE BLUE!" he screamed - although no sound escaped his mouth, save for a squeaky gasp. His nameless companion was suddenly nowhere to be found. He silently cursed him, knowing full well that he had stolen away to check the Wal-Mart entertainment section for any Revelation releases that may have found their way in amongst the racks. As the corn snack wedged in his throat began to moisten from backed up saliva, it slowly broke up and started to descend his sore asophagus.
He carefully backed out of the candy aisle and was instantly rolled like a cheap imitation Cuban cigar.
The Salamony Brothers had the rug out from under his feet and wrapped around him in a matter of seconds. Even in his distressed state, he had to appreciate the professionalism and efficiency of the inbred trio of Wal-Mart greeters.
This was it, he thought. No life flashed before his eyes. Only the speckled white tile of the Wal- Mart floor was visible through the round opening in the end of the rug as his body was twirled out the door. So this was how it would end. Wal-Mart patrons went about their shopping, pushed to, and beyond euphoria by the price of a lifetime on diapers, dog food, and drill bits. He shamefully remembered that he was wearing women's underwear.
Fortunately for Jordan, so did Dwight Salamony. After the other two brothers were gone in a flash of Wal-Mart blue, Old Dwight slipped back outside to where he lay prostrate on the sidewalk and slid a palsied hand inside the rug.
The first thing he found was the squeezeable bottle of cheese and salsa that Jordan had stolen. Apparently unsatisfied with this criminal bounty, Dwight 's hand continued upwards until he found the small of his back. With uncanny precision, he used his monstrously long and razor sharp pinky fingernail to remove Jordan's kidney. the second arm came up to deftly apply a scab of duct tape to the wound.
Then, silence.
-2-
He woke up on a bus bound for Disney Land. Little did The Salamony brothers know how fortunate this was for Jordan, who knew some people in the gift shop there. The bus was packed with Slavic women dressed in bright robes and sporting the dangliest of dangly jewelry. There were chickens running loose everywhere. None of the bus' windows had any glass in them. He realized with some discomfort that he couldn't feel his hands. Straining his neck, he looked behind him and saw that they disappeared into a hole in the fabric in the seat. Stale foam spilled out around the crude opening.
"Dey didn't have any rope, so dey cut da seat and wrapped a spring around your hands." A voice drifted from across the chicken -cluttered aisle.
His eyes met with those of a man most likely in his 90's. He wore a dry brown suit and wrung his hands around his fedora. His entire body shook slightly as he sat there, no one part of him in sync with the other. His mouth kept opening and closing after he stopped talking. "I'm driving the bus." He said, looking straight ahead into some oblivion that only he could see. A quick glance to the front of the bus revealed that there was no one in the driver's seat. The old man turned to Jordan and gave him a feeble smile. He raised his quaking right hand and mimicked honking a phantom horn.
For a second, Jordan thought he heard a weak Blaaaat! from the front of the bus.
He tilted his head back, yielding plausibility - and quite possibly, his life - to the bus man. He peered up through the stained glass roof of the bus. He became hypnotized by the colors there, and by the rocking of the dilapidated conveyance. "I'm driving the bus," he heard the bus man say again, this time to one of the many chickens. Acute pain arched through Jordan's spine, most likely due to his recent involuntary surgery, though in no way diminished by the bus seat to which he was bound. He grew sleepy again.
Just as he was about to drift off, the bus rocked violently and the first musical number of what was to be many that evening began. A well-endowed rooster had perched itself on the back of the seat before him. It had an Elvis hairdo. Drums pounded from somewhere behind him. He heard the bus man shout "It's time for ROCK N ROLL JEOPARDY!" and the guitars came in. And then the organs. The Rooster began to strut back and forth, belting out what sounded like an arabic version of "Rock Around The Clock".
The Rooster was actually quite good. As Jordan scanned the bus, he saw that everybody was in on it. The chickens were shimmy-ing and bop-ing in a perfectly choreographed routine. The gypsy ladies were do-wopping and snapping castanets, and even the old man, like some token human player in a muppet epic, was attempting to snap his fingers and smiling like a proud grandfather.
"Wait..wait.." Jordan croaked, "Who's driving the bus...?"
"The bus IS driving, now!" One of the ladies cooed.
It was the long way to Disney Land, that was for sure. The rag-tag ensemble of foul and palsied commuters ran through their entire repetoire before the bus came to a halt inside a huge garage in the Disney Land complex. One of the women's sweaty faces appeared above the back of the seat before him as the rest of her crew were packing up, hi-fiving, and congratulating themselves on a good set. "So, Vat did you think? Pretty Goot, ah?" She said.
"Ah, yeah..." Jordan croaked. The woman smiled and played with one of her huge hoop earrings. "You like, ah?". Some of the chickens were making their way up to front of the bus, where a door was opening. Out of the corner of his eye, Jordan saw the old man put the Elvis-Rooster into a violin case.
Before Jordan could manage another response, the woman was up and around the seat, sitting next to him. "Salamony Brudders say you have record company, yah?" she said.
-3-
After inking a lucritive deal with the bevy of bus-traveling minstrels who called themselves "Slit Wrist Coalition", Jordan was hauled out of the bus by a burly Disney Land employee who looked like he may have been the fourth Salamony Brother. The bald, toothless fellow caught a glimpse of Jordan's Duct Tape Scab and laughed, as if he recognized his brother's work.
He opened a door off the garage and pushed Jordan into a long white corridor. The door slammed shut behind him. Florescent lights and air conditioning were a blessing after the cramped bus and dark garage. He walked down the corridor, and soon, offices began to appear on either side of him. Finally , he emerged into a lobby. Great glass doors ahead gave way to the park. He started for them when a voice from the lobby said, "Excuse me, Sir."
A Disney Land security guard approached. Jordan panicked, and bolted for the doors. As he did, the bottle of Cheese and Salsa fell out of his pantleg. That was all the justification the guard needed. He pulled his gun and pointed at Jordan's head.
"Don't Move." The guard said.
Jordan stopped dead in his tracks. He could see great arrays of moving lights and hear the themed machinery churning to the delight of thousands outside. So close. "Kick the bottle of cheese and salsa toward me, " The guard commanded, "SLOWLY."
- 4 -
After the reports were all written up and the phone calls were made, Jordan was thrown into a cell. He wasn't surprised to find his nameless cohort from Wal-Mart waiting for him there. "What happened?" He asked his estranged companion.
"I saw this old guy stuffing a rooster into a case." He said. Jordan's heart sank. "I pushed the fucker down and let the rooster loose."
To Jordan's surprise, his friend started crying.
"I thought Walt Disney was dead," He said.
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I can't drive the bus and argue with you rubes all at the same time!
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