The Pirates of the Caribbean ride is a grand adventure. Patrons board a boat, on a track in three inch deep dirty water. The vessel meanders through an authentic and absolutely historically accurate depiction of life as a scallywag: men bidding on harlots, prisoners, mountains of gold, no scurvy, and, these days, Jack Sparrow. It’s fun for the whole family, especially when you have to remind your kid that it was a ride, not a promise that dead, drunk, and horny buccaneers are coming for them.

Cused upon you, as you leave, a haunting shanty plays over and over in your brain: “Yo ho yo ho a pirates life for me…”

The good news is that the mechanical abominations have not yet acquired human intelligence, so they can’t murder you. The bad-or amazing, if this is your fetish-news is that there’s a literal dead man, telling no tales.

In the 1960s, while the ride was being built, a team of swashbuckling Imagineers-Mickey’s personal team of engineers-decided that fake bones were just plain dull. Disneyland provides a magical experience for their guests, and nothing is more magic than John Doe serenading you.

Seriously, skeletons-multiple skeletons-were donated by the UCLA medical school to the park. They all stuck around for a while, but no one knows when they were replaced by the robots you see today. If it’s any consolation, they got respectful burials-probably by Goofy, digging a hole under the castle late at night.

Except one went to Davy Jones’ Locker missing his head. The authentic human skull can be seen hanging over the bed of a fake skeleton. It’s unclear who the skull belonged to, but, hey, he doesn’t have to pay ninety bucks to wait in line! Know more.