By Buster Gunning As a very close friend of Doc Gooden, cousin of Gary Sheffield, I felt that it was my duty to help him in any way possible, regardless of his guilt or innocence. Shortly after he eluded the police on a DUI traffic stop, I received a call from Dwight, asking me to drive my Bronco (the fact that it is white is merely a coincidence) over to his place Florida home, he said he was in trouble and needed to ?get away? for a while. Asking no questions I rushed over to his house and picked the ex-pitcher up, he had a look of worry mixed with excitement on his face. He threw a few bags in my vehicle and we were off, destination unknown. After a few miles of driving, I decided to break the silence. ?Dwight, where are we going to go.? ?Buster, I didn?t do nothing, I?m innocent and that?s that. That is why we must go to Disneyworld.? Asking no questions I made my way to the Orlando paradise. Parking in spot number C673 in the East lot, we made our way to the entrance. ?Buster, you got any cash?? ?No, I only have ones.? I replied ?Okay, I have a plan.? He said menacingly. We proceeded to sneak around the back and hop one of the few sections of fence that was not laced with barbed wire and guarded by Disney snipers. Making away around the preprogrammed family paradise, things seemed to be going well. Doc did not enjoy the lines for the rides all that much, and he made a few lewd remarks to Sleeping Beauty, but aside from that and a few other minor instances, everything seemed to be going well. After a quick bathroom break, Gooden?s eyes became extremely bloodshot which were accompanied by a look of mayhem that spread across his face. I became scared and unsure; I did not know what Doc would do next. Breaking out into a sprint, he made his way to some type of enchanted castle where he tried to storm the exterior and began making his assent to the top ledge, all the while screaming obesities about playa-hating Orcs. He would have made it to the top if it weren?t for two security guards in Dopey and Sneezy costumes pulling him down and led us out. We spent the next two days holed up in a Motel 6 subsisting on cheezenips and other things. The ordeal finally ended when Dwight?s mother convinced her disgruntled son to turn himself in to Tampa police. All in all it was a magical experience. I can never be sure why he tried to scale that plastic castle, perhaps it was the other stuff. The preceding article was a piece of satirical fiction.