Well, at EvilChili, our dedication to bringing you the truth is rivaled only by that of FOX News. By committing bribery, blackmail, and “one murder to prove we’re loyal,” we were able to secure the personal diary of a man who played Mickey Mouse at Disneyworld between the months of March 2010 and May 2010. Rather than editorialize, we present to you his journal entries exactly as they appeared when we first read them.
3/02/2010: Probation Officer is still pissed that I lost my old job as a middle school janitor. Apparently it’s “offensive” and “homophobic” to make fun of the queer kid who watches Glee. Gay.
Anyway, he set me up with a new gig at Disney World. I’m gonna be the guy in the Mickey Mouse suit who just stands around and poses for pictures and shit. I wonder if those suits are good for smuggling cocaine. I’ll look into that.
3/05/2010: Had my first day of work today, which is cool because it was also the first time I’ve ever been to Disney World. When I was a kid, mom used to always say we were going to Disney World, but we’d end up at some creepy house where I’d sit in the basement watching a crappy VHS tape of Sesame Street (those aren’t even Disney characters, what the fuck?) with the sound all the way up while mom went upstairs with “Uncle Walker.” Uncle Walker was skinny and smelled like “the sadness juice” that Mommy had before sleep.
Yeah, I get it, that wasn’t Disney World and Mom was a prostitute. Turns out the real place is so much better, and Uncle Walker is nowhere to be found. In fact, I think I saw him on an episode of America’s Most Wanted the other night. Sweet.
3/23/2010: Damn, it is hot in this fucking suit. They tell me, “You’ve got one job, and that’s to stand around signing autographs and hugging kids in a warm yet non-creepy way when the cameras come out. That should not be too difficult you piece of shit.”
Yeah, easy for you to say asswipe. You’re uniform doesn’t feel like Satan is having an orgy in Hell’s sauna. I once read that a dozen of us characters die from heat exhaustion each year, and the Disney folks just drag us our bodies out to be eaten by alligators. I swear, that just might be the truth.
Look at them titties.
4/7/2010: I swear, they are not paying me nearly enough for this shit. Some little dick came up to me asking for my autography, and I accidentally signed my own name. (“Nathan Van Der Beek.” No relation. Sadly.) Well apparently the little shit has overindulgent parents who like, read to him when he was a child, because he knew right away that those letters do not at all combine to form the word “Mickey Mouse.” And apparently his overindulgent parents also let him play soccer—the sport for commies and upper body amputees—because he landed a nut-shattering kick to my groin. Even with all that padding, I’m pretty sure I’ll never have kids now.
And with that stupid smile plastered on my face, it looks like I was enjoying it. The parents just laughed and said, “Now Walker, that wasn’t very nice. Want an ice cream shaped like Daffy Duck?”
Motherfucker is named Walker. What is up with that?
4/18/2010: I was in the locker room the other day, and get this. The person who plays Minnie Mouse is an overweight dude with a gigantic mustache. His name is Edwin. Am I the only person who thinks that is absolutely horrible?
He goes home and watches Lois and Clark. He taped the whole series. No joke.
5/1/2010: So the new guy who plays Minnie Mouse was my old roommate in prison once. Nothing happened between the two of us, but I’m pretty sure he wanted something to happen. I wonder if I should warn them that giving him this kind of job is just asking for trouble.
Doesn’t matter right now, though, cuz I asked my supervisor about Edwin. He closed the door, shut the blinds and said, “Now listen here you little piece of human excrement. You only have this job because society thinks decaying fecal matter like yourself deserves a second chance and all that liberal hippie bullshit. The Disney corporation does not fuck around, ok? There never was an Edwin. You imagined him because you were high, you little piece of slime. Are we clear, or would you like the same fate to befall you?”
What. The. Fuck.
5/15/2010: If years of playing Grand Theft Auto have taught me anything, it’s how to spot a tail. I was followed tonight by a black car with tinted windows. It parked in the clearing outside the trailer park and stayed there all night. I am genuinely afraid for my life.
5/17/2010: Got a postcard in the mail today. It was a picture of the Lincoln Memorial. On the back, it read, “Nathan, this is Edwin. You’re the only one I can trust. I’ve uncovered a massive conspiracy my man. Turns out that when citizens starting voicing concerns against the death penalty a few decades ago, United States government knew it needed to find a new way to kill off its criminals. Walt Disney and the “Imagineers” were approached to solve this problem. Don’t you get it? That’s what Disney World is! They recruit ex-cons to portray their beloved characters, then they kill us! Sometimes they poison our suits, sometimes a ride that we’re checking out on our break 'malfunctions,' and we’re offed that way. I gotta tell somebody man. You need to get out of there.”
The journal ends there. We searched for the trailer park where Nathan was said to reside, but discovered that Disney had purchased the land and was going to convert it into a new theme park, “Free Smile Island,” for the Disney resort. When we searched for his employment records, none were to be found. We tracked down a French family who had taken a photo with Nathan in costume during their Disney World visit, only to discover that they had, as the report said, “choked on baguettes or drank too much wine or something like that.”
The truth is out there.