Volume II • Issue 11 • April 2005

A Glimpse Behind the Smiles (Part 2)
by Bethany Shady

[editor's note: you can read Part 1 of this story here]

Maeby and I met at an undisclosed location to develop her vindictive plot. She had spent forty-four years figuring out just what she would be able to get away with, without accidentally killing or permanently injuring anyone in the process. She simply needed to embarrass Disneyland Park so badly that it would taint the park’s history forever.
 
As we passionately sipped Orange Julius (with immunity boosts to keep us healthy for our mission) Maeby threw down a dossier of what she had titled Operation: Get Back at Disneyland (she wasn’t very creative when it came to titles). The dossier held maps of the park, lists of every current employee’s names, a map of the park indicating where each security camera was, menus from every restaurant and food cart in the park, and the names and cell phone numbers of two men we could call in case we got into any trouble. When asking how Maeby got all of this information, she told me “You don’t want to know. Let’s just say it involved an armadillo and a lot of lubrication.”  I pressed her no further.
 
She reached in her pocket, pulling out a small vial filled with a brownish green liquid.
 
“This is purified senna leaf in its most concentrated form. It’s an intensely strong purgative that has an irritant effect on the intestinal membrane that causes griping, nausea and liquid stool.”
 
She had done her research.
 
“So, basically, explosive diarrhea. Montezuma’s revenge, if you will,” I said.
 
“Exactly. The maximum dosage that one would take in order to relieve themselves of your normal constipation would be 60mg. But Bethany, my friend, we’re going to give every guest at Disneyland Park today a 100mg dose, and Disneyland Park will be all to blame. With an overdose of senna, one will have burns on their anus worse than second degree burns from a house fire. Ah ha ha ha ha.”
 
Her laugh was wicked and somewhat frightened me.
 
She continued, “The average daily attendance of the park is forty thousand. I’ve got over four thousand grams of senna in a safe at my home. What you and I are going to do is make sure that every food item, every beverage and every lollipop purchased contains 100mg of pure laxative for each guest. Now, there is a total of three hundred and forty-six bathroom stalls in the park; two hundred and seventy-eight of which are in women’s restrooms, the remaining sixty-eight being in men’s restrooms. I’m sure you don’t need to take much time to realize that forty thousand people having emergency bathroom needs and only three hundred forty-six toilets doesn’t work out very well. It’s going to be diarrhetic mayhem!”
 
I was astounded. “That’s insane! Only three-hundred and forty-six bathrooms? That’s worse than the lifeboat/passenger ratio of the Titanic! This is gonna be great!”

“Fuck yeah it is. Alright, so here’s what we need to do.”
 
She went into a two hour discussion, describing every move we were to make and the details of exactly how to inject the senna into each food product.
 
Disneyland’s food and beverage delivery from Maitlin’s Food Services is scheduled daily for 4am.  The Maitlin truck normally makes its drop at the north cast member entrance earlier, around 3:15am, leaving it unattended until the first cast member arrives to begin prepping and shelving it. That was going to give us exactly forty-five minutes to inject all of the food and drink with the senna. An insanely small amount of time for the task, but we were going to do it!
 
Maeby had set D-Day for December 16th , forty-four years to the day she was fired. It was in four days. We needed to prepare. We headed to her house and got into an intense three-day regimen that involved fitness training, strengthening reaction time and Trivial Pursuit skills. I ate nothing but Matzo and Orange Julius and slept on a cot in Maeby’s laundry room. I knew what she was doing. She was toughening me up. She could tell I had somewhat of a soft spot for Disneyland and the families that enjoyed it, and she knew she needed to harden me. She knew that watching forty-thousand people going into a gastrointestinal hell was going to be hard to watch and she wanted to make sure I could go through with it.
 
December 16th , 2002. The alarm went off at 2:07am. We rose, clothed and prepared.
 
It was time.

 

The thrilling conclusion comes next month!


Bethany Shady is a writer for the footnote, and boy are we glad she actually likes us.

Anti-Thoughts
Dustin Grovemiller
Currents
Laura Goodman
From the Cheap Seats
Cousy Kane
No Action
Anthony Eldridge
Pure Lard
D.J. Kirkbride
Confessions of a
Dingy Trooch

Bethany Shady
Gently Wtih a Chainsaw
Leigh Sholler
The Little Things
 Filling the Void  Hooray for Comics! 
Historical Footnotes    
   

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