"1928326" the little cricket told Jenny as she punched the combination into the secret keys that would open the secret door inside the Italian restaurant in EPCOT.
The door opened. "Down the steps!" Jiminy told her.
Jenny ran, lost control of her puppet joints and tumbled in wooden clatter down the stairs.
"It's a good thing I am made of wood! I would've really been hurt if I was my real self," she said as she disentangled her puppet limbs that had twisted around each other in an inelegant and undignified manner.
"Okay. Get in that golf cart and..." the well-dressed bug on her shoulder looked this way and that down the wide, florescent lights lit underground corridor. "That way!"
There were men and a few women in work uniforms going about the business of keeping Disney World maintained. "Don't panic," Jiminy told her. "Pretend you belong here. Look! There's Winnie the Pooh and Captain Hook! You can pretend you're just another one like them!"
Jenny did her best not to panic. She walked as casually as he trembling wooden knees allowed her, pausing every now and then to keep herself from toppling over. "I still need to learn to walk better as a puppet," she muttered.
She got in the golf cart. "It's a good thing my dad is a golfer." And she sped off in the cart, grateful not to have to walk any more. (Of course, she had some problem with the puppet joints of her arms, as well as the hands and fingers under her white glove. But not as much as with her legs, feet and toes.)
The drive took several minutes with Jiminy her guide, looking at the signs and telling when and where to turn. Then, at last, he said, "We're here: Club 33!"
"Club 33?"
"It's the only place in Disney World where you'll naturally fit in. It's a place where adults go to be adults."
"You mean booze and women in sexy costumes?!"
"And sometimes doing sex acts!"
Jenny smiled. Then she frowned. "Hey! I thought you were my conscience?!"
"Yes. I am YOUR conscience, Jenny Piccolo. I'm the way you wished me to be. Remember all the lies and fibs and tall stories you told Joannie Cunningham?"
"Joannie Cunningham?? Wait, wasn't she a character in an old sitcom? I'm not THAT Jenny Piccolo, am I?" She just wasn't sure, any more. Being changed into somebody eles - and a fictional, wooden somebody else - seemed to be messing with her sense of identity. Maybe in her confusion she did wish Jiminy Cricket to be the kind of conscience the Happy Day's Jenny Piccolo would have.
Tue Jul 24 16:29:40 2018