DONALD DISMAY

He lisps. He spits. And he don't wear no pants. He's Donald Duck, my favorite cartoon character and one of the only reasons I daned to cross the threshold of Disneyland on Wednesday. Turns out, this vintage character is conspicuously missing from the glut of retail stores at The Happiest Place on Earth. I fought the crowds. I endured stroller wheels crunching into my ankles. Mickey-earred lollipops brushing against my shorts. Just a hat, a fisherman's hat, preferably. That's all I wanted. Something with my favorite fowl's image and possibly even my nickname stitched into the back: Donna Duck. My stepdad conjured the name in high school. My buddy, DJ, still calls me The Duck, the name which appears on his cell phone whenever I call.

Sadly, the store clerks mustered only blank stares when asked of Donald's whereabouts. I understood when the sadistically smiling Disney employee, toiling away in Tomorrowland, snapped that his store featured Buzz Lightyear for obvious reasons. But the cavernous store in Downtown Disney, the one featuring Donald's nephews Huey, Dewey and Louie hanging above the entrance, all it could offer me was a Donald-head pen or a $20-$40 plush toyl? Top-heavy pens tire my hand and I need another stuffed animal like I need more cellulite. No Donald hats? Not even a garish one topped with a plastic orange bill? A kind but clueless clerk pointed my friends and I to the back of the store where I found a fuzzy costume, complete with Donald head and cotton tail. I doubted that even the largest size - the 24-month-old - would fit. Besides, I couldn't hack off his head and sew it onto a hat. I can't sew a button onto a blouse. Thankfully, my cleaners got the blood out and button on, but I digress.

I guess I'll search the Internet, the world's largest garage sale, for a Donald hat of some kind. It's still saddens me, though. Where has my good duck gone? I may have to write to corporate about this. I had a surprisingly fun time with Jenna and Stephen at the theme park, but my disdain remains for Mickey, who hogs the store shelves and the spotlight. Hey, Mick, I've got a message from the duck: Quack off!