Wednesday, October 05, 2005

Episode 0.5

Welcome everyone. This is just a brief preview of our stories to come. We hope you enjoy it and Mark Twain and I would greatly appreciate your feedback. Just email us... dl.barkerbird@gmail.com. Now, we take a journey. Our tour begins here, in New Orleans Square.

As Mark Twain and I walked up to the old brick façade of one of our favorite rides, we stroke up a conversation about this odd looking man that was standing over near the Tarzan’s tree house area.

“Look, look over there,” said I, Barker Bird.

“What, I don’t see anything but a sea of faces and some smoke from the Bangal Barbeque,” she replied.

“No, look carefully, by the steps of the tree house. Do you see that man?”

Mark Twain turned her head five degrees south to take a closer look. Her bright eyes now became small, beady eyes peering as if it had hands that were pushing the guests aside to get to this man. “Is it the man in the trench coat? The blue one, over yonder?”

“Aye, that’s him. Doesn’t he look odd to you?” We took a step out of the way since we were blocking the queue entrance.

“Barker Bird, I do not know what you are talking about. You know it is a bit chilly this morning. He is probably just cold, now do you mind? At least thirty people have gone past us now, the line is at least five minutes wait more. Come on, lets go.”

I just couldn’t get over the fact that something about that man sent chills down my spine. I knew from the look on his face that something about him was just not right. I was going to get to the bottom of this.

As we continued along I began to ask more questions. “Do you think he is hiding something under that coat of his? You know what trench coats can be used for don’t you? Hiding their—“

“Barker, will you give it a rest! Please, I want to enjoy my day at the park. Come on, row 4.”

The cast member escorted us to our row and we sat down on the slightly damp bench seats. I gazed over the Blue Bayou. The dock, the restaurant, and the people except Mark Twain slowly faded from my view. I felt, like I always did when I rode Pirates of the Caribbean, as if it were me and the boat, floating through the Louisiana swamp with elegance.

We approached the talking skull giving us warning to go no further for, “Dead Men Tell No Tales.” The gentle moonlight that lit the face of this pirate seemed a little duller this night, all the more adding to the spooky feel I already had from the man in the trench coat. What was he up anyways? Disneyland was supposed to be a place of joy and happiness, a feeling I didn’t feel when I looked at the man.

We continued on our way along the eerie grotto, I still thinking about the man. The old mounted skull had passed over us and the sound of a waterfall could be heard directly in front of us. This was one of my favorite parts. I always closed my eyes as if I were actually falling down a real waterfall and the when I opened them, I somehow ended up in this strange world of plundering pirates waiting to board.

I moved in closer to Mark Twain as we prepared for the drop. Our boat came to a brief halt, as usual, preparing for the quick drop into the cove. I shut my eyes and Mark Twain gave out a shout of excitement. With a big grin on my face I opened my eyes to see the purplish cove and hear the old pirate song we all love, but neither was there.

TO BE CONTINUED…