What did I ever do to you, Mickey?
We were in a ritzy hotel. He was standing at the top of the stairs, silhoutted against the warm lights and maroon walls. His round forms looked more friendly then anything. I was stepping onto the first step at the bottom when I heard a high-pitched shout from above, “I won’t eat you, but this will!”
Like something out of Donkey Kong, a giant oil drum filled with bleach appeared in Mickey Mouse’s hands. He raised it over his head and threw it down the stairs. A second one spawned and he hurled it down the steps at me. The lids flew off, and bleach splashed around the stair well. The burning hit my face as the barrels knocked me over.
And then I woke up. What did I ever do to you, Mickey?