Disney, knackered, prose

Disney’s tales – Knackered.

Before I was even born I had dreams bigger than the world could ever imagine. Then as a three year
old I met Disney. Dear old Disney- he was a classic man dressed in a tail coat- as smooth as water in a
calm stream – and a whites dress shirt and black shoes to match. The tails floated behind him leaving
trails of candy and spices and everything nice for all the little children. He lured me in with shiny
candy disguised as Mickey Mouse and promised that I would forever be young like Peter Pan. His
words were clouds made of cotton candy upon which if floated on, deeper in to his lies or tales – as
most would call them.
For hours I, with innocent fascination, would watch him weave stories with the same characters yet
different storylines. They all had the same ending but the start would promise a different ending. I
was young and the fairy tales became my sustenance, my solace.
All the while reality went on undeterred by my lack of interest in it. Soon enough I was expected to
tie my own laces and eventually I was allowed to choose my attire. Then the training wheels were
removed from my bicycle and soon I could ride unaccompanied to the local diner for ice-cream.
Disney, however, he was good. When I asked him why my life was not like Peter Pans, why I had to
grow up, he brought about the “Looney Tunes” and the “The Fairly Odd Parents”. In these shows all
children tied their own laces and rode bicycles just like me. Disney remained my oxygen.
Reality still tried to avert my attention to itself all through my junior school. It failed. I had no
interest in the tormented life where Jerry would be caught by Tom and brutally mutilated before
being eaten. That was until Prom Year. Realty Succeeded that year.
Up until then I had absorbed like a sponge all the happly-ever-afters. Their scripts were etched onto
my heart. That night like a tire with a slow puncture everything Disney had ever taught me spilled
out, piece by piece, story by story, scene by scene.
Prince charming had no horse nor a trusty stead or even a mere sword. Prince charming was reality.
As I was yet again about to question Disney, the stars aligned themselves and everything made
sense. All my life the mouse was never caught and the cat was never thrown out for being a bad cat
and not catching the mouse. And Peter Pan- oh peter pan- he was a thief who lured a girl from her
Knackered of hearing, believing and consuming Disney’s tales, I gave him back his candy, stopped
following his intricate trail and grew up. Entering reality I will be beaten, bruised and eventually
buried by the truth and that will be my fairy tale, my happily ever after.