"Oh God!" You shriek like a hysterical Girl Scout, "Don’t come near me, don’t! I’ll SUE!"

A ring of men in black three-piece suits and sunglasses has surrounded you, but now they stop dead in their tracks. For a moment you think you’ve shown them with your brilliant strategy of threatening litigation, but then a long, dark shadow falls over you. You’re far too terrified to turn around, but the voice is unmistakable.

"Gorsh, Mister Somebody, I’m sure you won’t do that." It lilts, friendly, whimsical and deadly. "No one never sues in the Magic Kingdom. It just don’t happen. No sir. No lawsuits, no acts of terrorism, no deaths no cryogenic freezification of founding fathers. Why, only nice things happen here."

The sight of every eye witness being rounded up by Happy Dwarves, Rescue Rangers, and robot children of many lands offers an ironic counterpoint and you're just about to turn around and say so when the back of your head explodes in pain.

Who knows how much time has gone by before you regain consciousness. You’re chained to a wall in a pit and as your eyes focus you see an anthropomorphic skeleton hanging next to you. The tattered remains of its clothes, the moth eaten leather yoke around its neck… Horace Horse Collar has been hanging on this wall at least thirty years.

You don’t know it, but the sick feeling in the pit of your stomach doesn’t begin to compare to the agonizing death by thirst that will mercifully end your pain in just over a week.

START LICKING THE CONDENSATION OF THE WALL, MOOK.
IT WON’T HELP MUCH, BUT IT MIGHT PASS THE TIME!