A spinning world of 1960’s futurenoire flashes by with sirens blaring under the whir of electric engines propelling the halt-hollering joke-police after the laughing, fleeing man as he tears into Tommorowland with tornadic purpose.
“Somebody stop him!”
The Mickey-cops are in hot pursuit. He looks back just enough to catch their number. 7 at the most… All Steely eyed and brawny and itching to exercise their non-authority. Dressed to the nines in their wannabepolice duds. He’s laughing at them and the entire thing… And the photographer... She’s behind them in pursuit. A woman… He see’s. Wild eyed and smiling. Laughing along with him. He spots her smile and her uptied hair and looks through the mess of the chase directly into her eyes…and for a moment… He forgets everything else. Looking for the shot that catches the scene in picturesque eternity. Her eyes are wild and happy like someone who was given exactly the thing they had been unhappily waiting to see. He feel’s something from her. Some connection even through his drunken, chaotic haze between him and her and them. Even as he barrels into a thick crowds that part before him to reveal what Disney has to offer in the way of turn-the-tide boss battles... He’s looking still looking after her until a stiff shove knocks the wind out of him and knocks him on his a**, stopping him and severing that connection.
Buzz ******** Lightyear bars his way.
Wings wide and standing heroic like some archangel of plastic and neon and chrome come to halt his wild escape. That face frozen in a creepy, Toy story grin stares at him. Blank and cold and shining. The convex curvature of his glass helmet seals shut with an intimidating hiss. He hears Tim Allen speak through the costumes pre-recorded, kiddy-giggling lines and the costumed character throws up a hand and strikes a majestic pose with lights flashing on his armored suit and everybody cheers. Children smile and cry out to the savior of their Disney day all around him.
He stands calmly and approaches the giant toy. Cracking his neck as he nears.
“I am Buzz Lightyear; I come in pea-.”
The boss goes down with a swift, powerful kick that sends his balls to infinity and beyond. The crowd of exalting children cries out in horror over the humanity of their costumed giant toy hero writhing in cursing agony.
“buzzbuzzbuzzlightyear to ********”
Mickey’s Gestapo draws close. The turkey leg pops into his mouth, and he vaults bodily over the toppled hero and over to a merchandise stand, grabbing one of the many ridiculous, novelty Mad Hatter hats and he’s onto the moving walkway that leads up to the people mover in a flash. He’s ducked low. Moving through the line and hidden in the forest of legs as white America shuffles out of his way… Not wanting to make a scene or cause a ruckus. Compliant and dulled by the days tired shuffle through the park. He hears the Mickey-Cops flustered searching through the crowd left around the fallen space ranger. Bites off another chunk of turkey even as he’s panting and catching his breath. His mostly opened white button down is soaked through with sweat from the run through the California heat… He abandons the broken top of Jack with a kiss goodbye into a garbage can and rolls up his sleeves and the legs of his tan pants and puts on the Hatters hat… Hopping into the nearest empty people mover cart with a mischievous grin.
He’s looking around. Not for the cops that he lost for the moment… But for the photographer. For the woman he saw in chase of him. He’s looking even as the people mover moves him through the line of carts around the turnstile for more passengers to enter before the thing gets ready to take off along down the guided tour of Tomorrowland in all its twinkling splendor.
Something about her he can’t quite shake. Even the brief glance was enough to give him pause. Like Dejavu or a daydream. He knows her from someplace, Recognizes her.
Heavily, he breathes in the people mover. Blending in as best as he can while the tour readies to start.
A hand comes up to his mouth... He chews on the skin on the inside of his left index finger... Nervous suddenly at the idea of knowing someone. Knowing someone who would follow him where he was.
Knowing her.