- Text Size +
“Husband! Husband!” chirped Leighanne Littrell, when she saw Brian trudging toward her down Main Street. His head was hung, but he looked up when he heard her calling him. “Husband, there you are!” Leighanne exclaimed, flinging herself into his arms with childlike exuberance. “You promised to take me and Bay on Splash Mountain!”

“Aren’t you going to nitpick my performance too?”

“I think you sounded wonderful!” gushed Leighanne.

Brian shook his head. “I was terrible,” he admitted.

Leighanne looked shocked. “Brian Thomas Littrell, don’t say such a thing! Any girl would consider herself lucky to be serenaded by you.”

“Yeah? But I didn’t sing very well today, did I?” He sighed, struggling to put the frustration he was feeling into words. “I wish… I wish…”

Leighanne smiled and leaned in close to him. Then, out of nowhere, she began to sing. “There’s always… tomorrow… for dreams to come true. Believe in your dreams, come what may…” Her voice, while not strong, was high and sweet. He couldn’t help but smile, in spite of himself. “There’s always… tomorrow… with so much to do… and so little time in a day.” She performed a little pirouette in the middle of the street, spreading her arms in a wide, sweeping gesture as she went on singing. “We all… pretend… the rainbow has an end… and you’ll be there, Husband, someday...” Prancing towards him, she put her arms around his neck, and they rocked slowly back and forth as she finished, “There’s always… tomorrow… for dreams to come true… tomorrow is not far aaaaa-way!”

“That was beautiful, baby,” Brian whispered, his voice husky.

Leighanne beamed. “I think I’ll record it for this year’s edition of Christmas With the Littrells!”

Brian looked at her sadly. “I don’t know if that’s going to happen this year.”

“But Husband!” Leighanne pouted. “It’s tradition!”

Brian sighed. “We’ll see.”

Leighanne looked disappointed, but she shrugged and said, “I guess I can always find another way to leech money out of your fans this holiday season. Hm… I know! A Wylee holiday gift bundle, featuring an autographed copy of the Olive Juice soundtrack! It’ll be a great way to get rid of all those extras we have lying around! You know your fans will buy anything with your signature on it – and mine, too, of course!”

“Yeah, sure, baby,” Brian agreed absently. Her incessant babbling was starting to hurt his head. He needed a break from her… from Wylee… from the Backstreet Boys… from everything. “Listen, baby, would you mind taking Baylee on Splash Mountain by yourself? I think I’d like to be alone for awhile. I have some thinking to do.”

Then he turned and walked away, leaving Leighanne to sulk and scheme.

After walking around the park for a long while, Brian decided to find a quiet place where he could sit and rest a spell. He had just lowered himself onto a bench when a rustling in the bushes behind him made him jump up again. He spun around, startled, just in time to see a furry face peeking out from the bushes. “Oh!” he cried. “Sorry, little guy. Did I scare you?”

He certainly didn’t expect to get a response, so he nearly fell from shock over when he heard a voice reply, “No. Who are you?”

Brian blinked. The creature in the bushes blinked back at him curiously. Shrugging, Brian answered, “Well, actually, I am a Backstreet Boy.”

“A… Backstreet Boy?”

“Well, I… used to be.” Brian hung his head. “Right now I’m just a scarf model, according to Howie.” Thinking back to the argument he’d had with his bandmates made Brian angry. When he looked up again, his eyes were filled with defiance. “But I don’t need him. I don’t need any of the guys. I’m… I’m going solo!” he declared.

“Yeah?” What appeared to be a panda poked its head out of the bushes. “Me too! I’m… whatever you said. Going solo!”

Brian smiled and patted it between the ears. “Hey, whaddya say we both go solo together, huh?”

As the panda crashed through the brush, Brian saw that it had a long, bushy tail, like a skunk. “You wouldn’t mind my… mutation?” asked the pandaskunk, floating a few feet off the ground.

Brian blinked, then shrugged. “Not if you don’t mind me modeling scarves and handbags for my wife’s company.”

The pandaskunk held out its paw. “It’s a deal!”

Brian shook on it. Then he hopped onto the pandaskunk’s back, and they flew over the park, singing, “We’re a couple of misfits! We’re a couple of misfits! What’s the matter with misfits? That’s where we fit in!”

“Why am I such a misfit?”
lamented Patches the Pandaskunk. “I am not just a mustelid! I’m a hunk of a pandaskunk! Why don’t I fit in?”

“Why am I such a misfit?”
echoed Brian. “I have not been pussy-whipped! You have no right to nitpick! Seems I don’t fit in.”

Together, they chorused, “We may be… different from the rest. Who decides the test… of what is really best? We’re a couple of misfits! We’re a couple of misfits! What’s the matter with misfits! That’s where we fit in!”

Now, these two didn’t have any idea about what they were getting themselves into. The world is a lot more complicated and dangerous than it seemed when they were flying over Fantasyland. As they were crossing over the Matterhorn into Tomorrowland, they heard an ominous roar.

“The abominable snowman!” gasped Patches. “He must smell my musk in the air!”

“Quick, let’s get back on the ground,” suggested Brian, whose fear of heights was making him queasy.

Like I said… the other worlds are up to their ears in danger.

***