Chapter Three: The Dangers of Disney
“While women tasted of chocolate, citrus and mint, Davin Clarke tasted of whiskey and need.” (page 66)
Ok, admit it. Who just snickered at the title? Raise your hands, please, while I count…
Not you, Leon. You’re just drunk. And, like I’ve told you before, giggling champagne out of your nose is not attractive. Jeez, if I could just have a regular dog like everyone else in the world…
Love it or hate it, Disney does do something to a soul. Just a mention of the corporate cuddly beast and you’ll likely to start humming some catchy, merry, totally annoying tune. I, for one, now have The Jungle Book’s “Bare Necessities” cheerily chipping away at the crumbling sanity in my head. If I end up in a strait jacket thinking I’m a giant dancing bear by the name of Baloo, Disney is going down, my friends.
The dangers of Disney. Who knew, huh?
Admittedly, most people aren’t dealing with a psyche oftentimes in ruins when they get that darn sing-song bug stuck in their heads… speaking of which, have you ever noticed how everything sings in the Disney world? Bugs, crickets, fish, elephants, mice? Come on! Dear old Walt is just begging for some of us to slip into delusion land. Some of us don’t need that kind of help, old man.
Or, of course, the danger of Walt Disney might very well be that once the guy and his mouse gets a song in your heart, that silly, silly song just might not leave. It’ll grow inside of you, eat away all those blah places in your soul and replace them with a Baloo, a Mickey, a Goofy or, God help you, a Jiminy.
Who wants to deal with a chatty cricket in their head for the rest of their lives?
Raise your hands, while I count… and yes, Leon, I realize I’m raising my hand. It is not a dog’s job to point out such embarrassing crap, however. Go back to your bubbly, buddy.
Of course, it may already be too late for me. I don’t have a dog named Leon.
Save yourselves, my friends.
Chloe, Leon and Baloo