User blog comment:HumboldtLycanthrope/The Collaborative Cliche Pasta/@comment-24101790-20150307044417/@comment-25148755-20150309032654

Mikey had never pooped his pants before, at least not since he was too young to remember. He would have been embarassed at his condition, except there was no one around to laugh at him. Still, after a few minutes, the smell of the fetid turds squelching in his britches drove him to seek replacement garb. Walking down the main street, he noticed what appeared to be a maintenance door on the side of one of the buildings. The door had long been closed but with a little effort he managed to force it open. Through the entryway, Mikey stared down a long lightless stairwell that went down, down under the abandoned park, the bottom hidden in the black recesses of the depths.

His need for fresh pants outweighing his fear, Mikey entered the gloomy stairwell and descended, tightly gripping the rail. After what seemed like hours he finally reached the end, only to find his way blocked by another door. Upon the door was a garbled script, written in what looked like blood, and reading "KEEP OUT." Still, the smell wafting up from his nether regions was becoming quite unbearable, so Mikey silenced the voice of his better judgment and entered the room.

Inside he felt along the wall and found a switch which illuminated a sole bare bulb hanging in the middle of a large room. He was greeted by rows of costumes of Disney characters: Mickey, Goofy, Pluto...all of them hung upon the walls, each figures lifeless gaze seemingly fixed on Mikey standing in the door. He moved to the costume closest to the door, but found that it was somehow secured to the wall and he wasn't able to remove it. A strange smell of rot filled the air, as if something had died in the room long ago and possibly never left. Still, despite his misgivings,  at the far end of the room lay salvation: a Mickey costume lay draped across a bench, just waiting for him to put it on. Creeping down the room, the eyes of the costumes on the walls seemed to follow him the whole way. Finally, he reached his destination.

Shucking out of his soiled jeans and underwear, Mikey slipped into the Mickey costume. It fit just right, as if it was made just for him. At first he had only intended to put on the bottom of the costume, to replace the pants he had ruined, but it just seemed...wrong, somehow. Incomplete. He pulled on the upper portion of the costume, and finally lowered the towering mask over his head.