This is Not High School Musical
Disclaimer: Hmmmm...I don't own it.
Somewhere in the far reaches of the universe, the sound of a typing could be heard.
Since that somehow doesn't narrow it down to any particular area of the universe (at which point the Narrator is glad that it doesn't), let's just ignore that bit of information and peer over the typist's shoulder to see exactly what's going on.
King Mickey glanced over his shoulder and blinked. "Well, can I help you?"
Standing behind him (and apparently behind the invisible reader) was a tall, darkly-cloaked figure, who was tapping his (or her?) foot impatiently on the ground. "You are His Majesty, King Mickey, aren't you?"
The mouse king nodded. "Were you lookin' for me?"
The person smiled amiably. "Actually...yes. There's something I need you to do for me."
"Well, I'm kinda in the middle of somethin'. The Director has been tryin' to stop this crazy idea for the Sora and the gang. But gosh, it doesn't seem to be working so far..." King Mickey's face scrunched up and he sighed, turning back to the computer screen, his gloved hands flying over the keyboard as he continued writing the email.
The person standing behind him laughed. "Really now? Would it be that much a shame if they did go through with it?"
King Mickey paused in his typing. "It really would be."
Then, a considerable pause in the typing, as though the typist had just figured out who he was talking to...which in fact, he had...
King Mickey's eyes widened and he spun around, but he was too late.
Darkness quickly enveloped him.
Some days later, a young man who may or may not have existed in this realm of existance glanced out a window, and then glanced at his watch, and then glanced at his half-eaten peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Then, as if by magic (which, considering the universe that this story has taken place in, was very likely), a single note fluttered from his ceiling and landed on his peanut butter and jelly sandwich.
Frowning, the young man picked up the note, slightly annoyed by the fact that now there was a nice streak of peanut butter along the lower half of the note. Not that the note was all that long. In fact, the message was quite plain and simple, and if one overlooked the urgency of it, was probably quite quaint.
King Mickey has been kidnapped. We need your help.
Have you ever heard of something called Titanic?
The young man groaned, and then looked mournfully down at his sandwich.
"Why is it always me?"
The sandwich, being a sandwich, didn't know quite what to say to that.
continued in This is Not Titanic
Author's Note (20 Mar 08): Consider this a post-epilogue, or just a prologue to This is Not Titanic. It wasn't until one of the reviewers for this story commented that she didn't even know the sequel existed did I realize the small problem of writing a sequel a handful of months AFTER the original story was done. Honestly, I was wishing that there was a send-all button for all those who had This is Not High School Musical on their alerts list (you guys can probably take it off - this story is completely finished now).
So, for all those who enjoyed this story, and were wondering about the sequel - it does exist.
I guess this actually adds a tiny bit of background to how the current director of the sequel got his job...