Citizen Mouse

Published Categorized as Culture Tagged , , , , , , ,

*Disclaimer: The following is a fan based parody. The characters mentioned in this fan parody are all owned by The Walt Disney Company, 20th Century Fox, Lucas Film and Marvel Studios. I do not own the characters mentioned in this fan parody. The use of these characters are purely for nonprofit purposes and I do not intend to sell it. The views, words and discussions expressed here are purely my own and do not reflect The Walt Disney Company, 20th Century Fox, Lucas Film and Marvel Studios.

With this said, anyone who thinks this was made by Disney should probably get themselves checked anyways…

Mood setter…

Goofy rubbed his palms nervously, his head cowered as the whirring elevator made its way slowly up the many floors of the Disney corporate building. He could feel nervous sweat trickling its way through his office suit, causing him to shake anxiously.

He was flanked by two armed guards in suits; one a Jitari who gave Goofy a harsh snarl for looking in his direction, the other a Predator who simply clicked his fangs as if to further spook the longtime Disney icon. This one was a product of the new “deal,” no doubt, and was obviously brought in as muscle to intimidate any who decided to set foot within the Kingdom but Goofy wasn’t some invader looking to hurt Disney’s assets. Afterall, he was the boss’s oldest friend.

Perhaps, the only real friend he had left.

“Garsh. Mickey has changed…” Goofy muttered under his breath. The Predator’s yellow eyes narrowed and he silenced himself once again as the doors opened to the top floor.

Goofy stepped out, the guards handed him off to two red-coated Emperor’s guard, their dark vacant visors staring peerlessly ahead, as they escorted him to Mickey’s “office.” The top level was cold and dreary, black tiles and telescreens producing box office schematics lined the walls of the once jaunty halls of Walt Disney.

There was a deafening silence that Goofy had become more used to over the last several years. “The Happiest Place on Earth” wasn’t always like this; there were days not too long ago where joy was still palpable in the air; all matter of woodland critters would make their homes within the building, members of Pixar would come by for lunch, it wasn’t unusual for a song or dance number to break out spontaneously when the Princesses were in town and Donald, oh Donald Duck, when the ol’ gang was all together the three of them would have such fun.

But now? Now there was only silence, darkness and a depth of cold that chilled Goofy to his bones.

The guards walked him toward two large black doors, each grabbing a side and opening it for Goofy. The deep yawn of the monolithic hatches made the hairs on the back of Goofy’s neck stand on end as he entered the dark room.

The office, which once was more a playground for Mickey and his friends to enjoy themselves in, resembled now more of a dark throne room bereft of life, its only light emanating from the large glass windows overlooking the afternoon Hollywood skyline.

Before he could even gather his wits about him, Goofy became immediately aware of what sounded like the hammer of a butcher tenderizing large cuts of meat and as he looked ahead toward Mickey’s large marble desk. He gasped in horror at the site before him.

Mickey’s fists were bloodied, as was his hand-tailored Armani shirt. Flanking him to his right and left was the dark lord of the Sith himself Emperor Palpatine and the mad titan Thanos beaming in sadistic glee at the two bent over husks in front of him. It was beloved TV icon Homer Simpson and less beloved Peter Griffin, or at least they somewhat resembled them; their faces were so battered and bruised from Mickey’s fists, that blood-soaked their shirts and the floor around them.

“I’m going to ask you this one more time and I better hear the right answer this time, you fat fucks huhah,” Mickey said kneeling down to their eye level, his eyes filled with venomous, barely controlled rage. “I want a shared universe between ‘The Simpsons’ and ‘Family Guy.’ The people demand it. I demand it. Huhah. Shared universes make money damn it and money is power, gentleman. Do I need to explain myself again, huhah?”

“Money? Power? Oh that reminds me of that time I…” Peter Griffin began groggily before Mickey backhanded him across his face, smashing his glasses, then proceeded to kick him repeatedly in the stomach causing the Family Guy dad to cough blood.

“I swear to God, Griffin, if I hear one more fucking reference joke out of you, I will cut your dick and balls off and feed them to your fatter, dumber son, huhah” the Mouse raged as he continued kicking the Family Guy character over and over again. “Just sit down, shut the fuck up and listen. Huhah.”

“Uhh Mr. Mouse,” a bloodied and wearied Homer Simpson breathed, “I’ll do whatever you ask just promise you won’t hurt the boy. Wait is the boy the weird one with the glasses?”

“No, that’s Milhouse,” Mickey said his eyebrow raised flabbergasted at the seemingly venerable TV giant’s stupidity.


Mickey grated his hands across his skull, clearly exacerbated by the denseness of the two famous cartoon dads not falling in line under their new corporate master. Thanos, stepped forward flexing his Infinitely Gauntlet in front of the two’s bruised, dull-witted faces.

“Listen, we can do this all day, gentleman,” he said callously. “When either of you get too close to dying I’ll just turn the Time Stone and we can do this for an infinite number of loops until the Mouse gets what he wants. You can dread it, run from it but in the end, destiny arrives all the same.”

“Destiny…herherheherhaa…” Peter Griffin said, not even lifting his head from the puddle of blood he was steeped in. “That reminds me of that time…”

Lightning shot across the room from Palpatine’s finger tips as Griffin fried liked a roast pig, his bloodied form so battered he didn’t even give out a wail as his body sagged deeper into the floor. Thanos turned to the Emperor, clearly annoyed as he used his Time Stone to resurrect the lifeless corpse of the Family Guy dad.

“My apologies, Mad Titan,” the Emperor cackled coyly. “I could only take so many of those jokes myself. My apprentice has a lot to work on and we don’t want to waste too much more time.”

Mickey turned again to the two characters, his eyes ablaze with quiet rage. “Do we have an understanding, gentleman. Or do we need to discuss ‘matters’ again? Huhah.”

“No, Mr. Mouse” they both cried as they groveled before the Disney overlord.

Mickey looked over to the guards that had ushered Goofy into the office, his eyes still frozen in horror. “Get these pathetic, lowlifes out of my sight,” and the guards dragged their near lifeless bodies out of the room. Mickey’s gaze now turned to Goofy as his once steely grimace suddenly softened.

“Goofy, my friend. My oldest, most loyal friend, huhah,” Mickey said joyously as he made his way across the dark room, almost skipping as he walked through the blood. “It’s good to see you, we have much to discuss.”

Goofy managed an awkward smile as if to not give away his total shock at what he had just seen. Mickey leaned in for a hug but without knowing Goofy instinctively repulsed back before trying an embarrassed grin as to not hurt the Mouse’s ego. Mickey eyed him for a moment suspiciously before again diving into his old child-like demeanor.

“Of course, my apologies, Goofy huhah,” looking down at his suit and his white gloves that were stained permanently red with the blood of Peter Griffin and Homer Simpson. “How inconsiderate of me not to conclude my business meeting before your arrival. If you will, I would like to clean up a bit before we begin. Huhah.”

“Um, of course, garsh, it’s ok, Mickey,” the famous cartoon dog said nervously. “Take all the time you need.”

Mickey unbuttoned his red-stained shirt and tossed it to a nearby guard with some disdain as if the blood of the two men he just bludgeoned carried some rotten infectious disease. He turned back to his desk to look into his wardrobe which was filled with expensive shirts, coats and ties. Goofy could see clear scorched scar marks across his back, as if the mouse had been tinged by lightning.

“Mickey, your back…garsh,” Goofy began his hand over his mouth in shock.

“Oh huhah. Nothing to worry about, my friend. Just some marks from my new training with Palpatine, huhah,” Mickey said with gleeful dismissal. In the corner, Goofy could see the yellow glint of the Emperor’s teeth in the darkness like a deranged beast surveying its prey.

“About the deal though, Mickey. Hutyuk. I was wondering if we could speak about it,” Goofy said, he could feel the perspiration in his palms as he nervously eyed the two cinematic villains flanking Mickey.

“Ah yes, speak away, Goofy. Huhah,” Mickey donned a new white J. Crew shirt as well as a new pair of his famous gloves. He was cheerful, he seemed happier than he had been in years but there was a gross perversion to this happiness, something truly off that unsettled Goofy to his core. “An amazing moment for us and this organization, Goofy. One that’ll surely change Hollywood forever, huhah.”

“Actually,” Goofy began turning his eyes toward Mickey’s new ‘friends’ “I was wondering if we could speak in private, hutyuk.”

Mickey’s eyes briefly narrowed. He had begun pouring two glasses of scotch and now for a brief moment gave Goofy the same look he had given the two cartoon legends he had battered earlier. But he shook it off as quickly as he had shown it.

“Of course, of course, my friend huhah. It’s best to share this moment of glory with people who have stuck with you from the beginning.” Mickey gave a slight hand wave to the Emperor and Mad Titan and they marched out obediently to the Mouse’s orders, each passing a fiendish grin at Goofy that caused him to cower even more.

Goofy walked up closer to Mickey’s colossal desk fit more for war lord than the CEO of a largely family-friendly business. Various artifacts from other franchises such as Darth Vader’s lightsaber, Thor’s Stormbreaker, Dr. Strange’s cloak of Levitation and the Holy Grail from “The Last Crusade” were strewn across the table. In the past there were mostly just pictures and keepsakes from joyous times in the past; letters from sick children, Oscars for best animated feature, pictures from days at the park with his friends and Minnie. Oh Minnie. They had so many great times together. But now none graced the platform of the kingly Mouse, replaced instead by a cold, methodical altar to his power. It was unrecognizable to Goofy.

“A toast, my friend? Huhah.” Mickey handed one of the glasses he poured to Goofy who up until he reached out had not noticed his hands trembling. He quickly shook it off before Mickey took notice, grabbing the glass and downing it quickly.

“Easy there, buddy, huhah. Relax. We’re on the precipice of greatness right now, huhah.”

Mickey poured the Dog another glass, Goofy decided to sit down in the large leather chair adjacent to the desk to calm his nerves. He wasn’t sure where to begin.

“Garsh. This deal is moving pretty fast isn’t it, Mickey,” he said, dabbing sweat on his forehead with his tie. “The X-men, Avatar, Deadpool it’s…”

“Amazing, right? Huhah,” Mickey said before he could finish, gleefully hopping on his desk to sit like a child getting ready to open his presents on Christmas. “Never in my wildest dreams did I think we could reach this point, Goofy. The assets we acquired today will power the Disney engine for decades, huhah. If only Walt could’ve seen us today, Goofy. He would’ve been so proud. We did it! We fucking did it, huhah!”

Mickey bent down to cheers Goofy with his glass but Goofy’s eyes shifted. He was trying to find the right words, unsure if his old friend would listen to him.

“Don’t you think this is a lot, Mickey,” he began, his eyes turned down to his glass, shaking the ice cubes back and forth as if to procure some message from them. “All these properties, they were created by talented individuals, hutyuk. Imagination is best when there’s a diversity of ideas, Mickey. Don’t you think it’s best if we just let them be? Hollywood shouldn’t be, you know, monolithic.”

Mickey’s eyes tensed, his cheeriness was now gone from his face, now replaced with a look of vexed dismissiveness as he hopped off the table and walked toward his large throne like seat behind his desk.

“What we’re creating here is the future, Goofy,” Mickey said taking a slow sip of his scotch. He reached into one of his large drawers and withdrew a box of finely made, hand-wrapped, Cuban cigars, lighting one and taking in a deep inhale. “The public is a hungry beast, huhah and they demand more content every year. The Disney brand must expand to sate these hungry appetites, Goofy and we can only do that through the acquirement of these franchises, huhah.”

“But what was wrong with what we had, Mickey,” Goofy implored, leaning in trying his best to find reason within the once modest, altruistic Mouse. “Garsh, we had a great niche before. Fun and wholesome entertainment for the whole family, hutyuk. People loved our musicals and stories of princes and princesses. We didn’t need Iron Man or Luke Skywalker to be great, Mickey. We already were.”

Mickey gave a short deriding snort as he took another deep breath of his cigar.

“We were ‘great?’ We were weak, Goofy,” he said getting up and turning toward the Hollywood skyline. “Are you familiar with the history behind the fall of the Roman Empire, huhah?”

“Ummm, garsh, a little but…”

“It fell from within, huhah” Mickey turning back toward Goofy, his tone becoming more glower. “The Emperor became soft. After centuries of beating their chests triumphantly and conquering most of the continent they allowed weak-minded fools to infest their ranks, the uprising of Christianity and fell to a bunch of savages from all sides, huhah. Instead of doing what they had always done they decided to just stand pat and be content with ‘who they were’ and they were destroyed by their shortsightness.” “Garsh, I’m pretty sure there’s a lot more nuance to the history than that, hutyuk.”

“Don’t believe that politically correct bull shit, huhah,” Mickey bellowed, slamming his hand on the desk causing a massive crack in the shinning marble. “If we do not conquer our enemies then they will conquer us. Fox is just a stepping stone in our larger plan. MY plan.”

“’Plan?’ What more could you want, Mickey,” Goofy yelled back, shocked that the Mouse’s voracious appetite for power wasn’t already satisfied enough.

“You see how much money Sony made with fucking ‘Venom’ last fall, huhah? I want that, Goofy,” Mickey bellowed, his anger rising. “Apple is making their own streaming service now, Warner Brothers still has the God damn Batman and Jeff Bezos, that fucking fool, is worth 146 billion dollars! You think Disney is powerful enough already, huhah? You don’t know shit!”

“But garsh, Mickey, isn’t this beginning to feel like a monopoly,” Goofy entreated, his face stricken with grief for what his friend was becoming but the Mouse remained undaunted.

“Monopoly is just a game, Goofy. I’m trying to conquer the world, huhah” he said standing up. His fist was bleeding from the crack he formed in his desk but if it was hurting him Mickey gave no impression of it. “Rome fell because its leaders couldn’t do what was necessary. Are you one of those leaders, Goofy? Are you going to betray this empire with your softness, huhah?”

“I’m not betraying anyone! I’m on your side, Mickey,” Goofy now rose defiantly from his seat walking over to Mickey. He was determined to have his old friend see the folly in his ways. “At some point it’s just too much, hutyuk. Movies should be about creating art not profit. We have enough. We’ve always had. We don’t need anymore.”

“That’s the exact kind of loser speech I heard out of Donald, huhah,” Mickey suddenly rising from his chair, his rage seeming to boil over finally. “Don’t you betray me like Donald did, Goofy. Don’t you fucking betray me, huhah!”

Goofy suddenly had enough and reached for Mickey shoulders perhaps in a futile way hoping he could somehow shake this insanity from his old friend.

“Stop, Mickey! Garsh! Stop this madness,” he was sobbing now uncontrollably. Unable to bear what he was seeing out of the once kind-hearted mouse. “You’re breaking my heart, Mickey. You’re going down a path I can’t follow, hutyuk. Minnie. Pluto. They’re all waiting for you at home. They haven’t seen you in years. They love you! I love you!”

Mickey’s stoney rage suddenly softened, his fiery eyes cooled like the sudden passing of a harsh storm.

“Perhaps, you’re right my friend,” Mickey said solemnly, sitting softly back down in his chair. He pulled out a second bottle of whiskey this time and re-poured both their glasses. “Perhaps in my pursuit for perfection, I lost sight of what Walt all wanted for us and the world; true happiness huhah. One not determined by an acquisition of wealth but of good people and love for the world.”

Goofy smiled for what felt like the first time in years within the Disney corporate office and Mickey smiled back. He was seeing shades of his longtime friend again, the one who had no visions of conquests or destruction but kindness and empathy. Someone who was known to never curse, belittle or lay the smallest of fingers on anyone because he cared more about them than himself. Perhaps Mickey’s heart was not completely iron after all.

“I think we both deserve a pretty stiff drink after this lively ‘debate,’ huhah” said Mickey, getting up once again and handing Goofy one of the glasses. “To old friends and a truly prosperous future, huhah”

“To old friends, hutyuk,” goofy smiled as he took a long sip, his tears drying. He was glad to see the old Mickey again.

Suddenly a searing pain welled up inside Goofy’s chest. At first, he thought it was just some minor heartburn but it quickly became apparent that it was much worse than that. His chest buckled and he felt his knees give out as he crumpled to the floor as his body began shaking increasingly more violently. Goofy coughed blood as he dropped his glass to the floor, the glass shattering around him. He looked up toward Mickey, blood beginning to ooze from his mouth and eyes as his chest seemed to writhe in and out.

The mouse stood above him, his eyes vacant without an ounce of compassion left in them.

“What…did you do to me…” the words gurgling with tragic betrayal from his blood soaked lips.

“It’s funny, how much more powerful Disney has become through this deal, Goofy. The kinds of franchises we acquired are limitless in scope, huhah” Mickey kneeled down, locking eyes with the Dog he had once called his best friend. “For example, our Disney engineers discovered quite a bit on the sets of ‘Prometheus’ and ‘Covenant.’ What a dumpster fire of a film that was but the technology we uncovered, huhah, could change life itself. Like this company, big things have small beginnings. All it needs is a little…push.”

Goofy chest convulsed even more violently than before, pain unlike anything he had every felt surged through his rib cage, as if a sledgehammer was trying to press its way through his heart.

“YAAAAAHOOHOOHOOWEEEEE!!!” he screamed as the head of a tiny floppy dog-eared xenomorph burst violently through the bones in his chest and gave a soul-piercing screech as it breathed life. Goofy’s eyes stared in horror as it squirmed around in front of him in his pool of blood.

“I’m sorry, Goofy, huhah,” Mickey said getting up and pouring his glass over the bloody, twitching body of Goofy. “You just weren’t meant for the future.”

Goofy, gurgled blood from his mouth and eyes, managing to look up one last time at his long-time friend. His hand extended out as if to grasp at what specs of humanity may be left in the deranged Mouse’s head before finally collapsing haggardly to the red soaked floor. With his corpse still twitching the floppy-eared xenomorph crawled out of his chest and scurried away into the dark recesses of the office.

Mickey gave a last cursory glance at his old friend; if there was part of him that felt sad at Goofy’s violent end, he didn’t show it and paced back to his desk and pressed in on his intercom.

“Send a cleaning crew to my office, I have some ‘garbage’ that needs to be removed, huhah,” he said indifferently. “Oh and contact, Dr. Doom. Tell him a new position just opened for him at the office of the Happiest Place on Earth, huhah.”

“You’re training is complete, my apprentice,” said a ghoulish voice emerging from the darkness. Emperor Palpatine had returned to Mickey’s office. “I felt your anger. It makes you strong, lord Mickey.”

The Emperor broke off into a maniacal cackle as Mickey pulled out another glass. He extended out his hand deftly as his former bottle of scotch floated up to him and poured the golden liquid into his container.

“My powers grow ever stronger, master. Soon Hollywood will know my wrath, huhah,” Mickey said, a sadistic smirk creasing his face.

“Your enemies will soon learn to respect the name of Mickey Mouse once again,” Palpatine smiled fiendishly. “Soon all will bow to the full power of the Walt Disney Corporation.”

“None will stop us. None will stop me. The sun shall never set on the Disney Empire, huhah,” Mickey walked toward the large glass window, it was a bright spring day in Hollywood one that would have filled the Mouse’s once light heart with much happiness and innocent delight.

But now? Now it was a heart of iron, determined to lay waste to the world.

“Huhah…I own this town…huhah…”

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