Happy Friday Dot Readers!
I hope that all had a great 4th of July and celebrated our national independence day with hot food, cold drinks and good company. Fireworks cost too much that’s why I didn’t mention them. Today we begin a 3 part report that will post for the next few Fridays until the information is fully exposed. Names have been changed to protect the innocent as well as the crooked involved in this sensational piece of creative writing that may or may not be anywhere close to the truth. Enjoy and have a great weekend!
Emancipation of the Black Rat
We wanted nothing. We had it all. Land and money. Cars and clothes. Power and respect. By the time we arrived in central Florida, over half the region and most of the online chat rooms were going haywire with updates about our meeting. The Orange County Sheriff’s Dept seemed to be continuously following, or parked at various positions along the way that we had chosen to travel. Walt drove on at a steady rate, blowing smoke clouds that traveled like dense fog straight towards the cops as if to smokescreen us from them. The mosquitoes were deadly. This is the same swamp that a cartoonist by the same name as my companion began the development of what would become one of the largest and most profitable venues in the world. The history books forget to mention the huge group of people who died in that swamp from malaria, yellow fever and heat strokes while working for Mr. Disnee. “Big D”, as they called the frail Caucasian who initiated the building of the swampland theme park, but then died before it was completed. Poetic Justice. Irony. While the famed creator of Mickey Mouse sat by idle and let his workers suffer under poor conditions and even die under the Florida sun, the bodies of the dead illegal Hispanic workers and Africans were used to help fill the sinkholes that once sat where Magic Village stands to this day. Disnee was a storytelling, image creating, wizard who sold the world actual accounts of his encounters with the dark side and formatted it into the children’s delight and mesmorized any human being under the age of 8. The fact that he secretly practiced sorcery was never mentioned. If anyone ever mentioned it, they never mentioned anything else again. Here in this time, we travelled towards the same ill fated destination as many other brothers had done years before us. We had already been to Anehiem to no avail. Disnee Place in California was constructed before the Orlando venue but it was still the brainchild of Big D. Interestingly enough, both places were built in similar situations in counties that bear the name Orange. Our business with Disnee and his empire was exactly that. Strictly business. We were here for that which was worth millions of dollars in front money and responsible for the death of our grandfather, and father. We were there for the Black Rat. The iconic mouse that is symbolic of the Disnee empire becomes public domain on January 1 next year after having been given a 20 year extension in the private sector. Copyright laws were amended to grant all existing copyright holders a 20 year extension back in 1998. The grandchildren of the founder of the. theme park we headed towards spent a lot of bribe money and lobbied extensively to get the bill passed at that time. The legislators who eventually fell for the bait, are now blamed for two decades of stifling free speech for money. That shows you where our democracy and freedom is really headed. Had it not been for grass roots efforts of concerned people online, the government may have tried to get another extension to the law. The other underlying factor was that the Disnee empire proved to be too greedy and after buying up Marvel Movies, Foxx, and several other Cable Networks, stopped paying the men who passed the laws.
“Just pull forward and park in the visitor section by the main office, Sir.”
I had drifted so far into my thoughts that I had missed the traffic of International Drive and suddenly thankful that we had arrived at the entry gate. Walt did as instructed leaving a trail of smoke from the security guard to the front desk.
“Hello Walter,” said the receptionist. “We’ve been expecting you. You will find your delivery package in the back room. All of the executive personnel have retired for the day but I am sure you know the routine by now.”
Walt pulled out his cell phone. After entering his passcode, he answered the secret popup question. Then after passing the fingerprint scan, he held the phone in front of his left eye to complete the retina verification. Finally, he went into online banking and transferred 3 million dollars worth of stock to the Disnee Corporation.
“Beep, Beep.” The receptionist looked at her laptop where the noise occured.
“Excellent,” she said. It appears that you have been given the green light to proceed.
Walt and I made our way down the hall to the left and rounded the corner to a small staircase leading downward. Once in the basement, we found the back room labeled “B.R.” Walter opened the door and glanced inside. There on the table sat three tin foil wrapped bricks.
“Let’s get it and go,” he said.
Once we were back on the freeway, we waved at the last Orange County Sheriff’s patrol car as we headed out of town. I always felt safer in Florida than in California. We had the cops working for us in Orlando. Only in the sunshine of these two places in the United States can you get the quality dope we had in the trunk. Black Rat. The highly potent hallucinaginic narcotic mold scraped from decomposing oranges that only forms in nature under the most ideal weather and sunlight conditions. I know you’ve never heard of it until now Chester, but that’s because you can’t afford it and it doesn’t sell on street corners. Oh, did you think all the fuss was over a cartoon mouse and a duck? SMH. My brother and I are three generations deep in the game with Disnee World. Our delivery was worth well over 12 million easy once we processed the three bricks. If that isn’t enough to get you Goofy, I don’t know what is.
Tune in next Friday for PT.2