LIFE-SAVING KISS DEEMED “NON-CONSENSUAL” AND A BAD EXAMPLE.
On a lovely street tucked into Burbank’s suburbs is a block featuring nothing but tiny “fairy” cottages. At the end of the street is a house that looks just like a castle; designed to fit the needs of Fairy Tale stars, Snow White and her Prince. As this WWN reporter approaches the wooden front door, with a smaller door carved into it, angry voices can be heard from inside.
This WWN chronicler knocks on the door. A beautiful woman swings it open. It’s Snow White. Behind her, the Prince paces the room angrily. “Thank you for coming,” Snow White says. “We thought you could help us out of a bad place.”
Once inside the house, it becomes clear the Prince is beyond agitated. He rushes forward and extends a hand, the other one holding crumpled newspapers. “I’m afraid I’m not in my best shape, today.”
“I understand, Prince Florian.”
He calls to his wife. “This man actually knows my name!”
He shakes the newspapers. “Half of these rags call me ‘Prince Charming!’ My last name doesn’t exist in literature. I’ve been in therapy since 1940. Who am I? What am I here for? Now, I need this?”
Two months earlier, two writers in San Francisco said that the new Snow White ride at Disneyland, which ends with Prince Florian, breaking the Wicked Witch’s curse on Snow White and awakening her from her eternal coma by delivering ‘love’s first kiss’ was all wrong. The Frisco writers bemoaned the fact that it was “non-consensual.”
Earlier this morning, one Hermione Blatz of The American Buttinski Association, went further, calling the kiss a “how-to guide to date rape.”
THE PRINCE DOESN’T SING TO JUST ANYBODY.
“Dammit,” says Florian, “I knew I loved her from the first time I saw her in the woods, surrounded by Disney animals. I sang her a whole damned song. Do you think I go around singing heartfelt songs to anybody? Like: oh, here’s the newspaper boy. I have to sing! This is crap.”
Snow White nods. “I was hooked by him and his song. But, once my stepmother ordered a hunter to cut out my heart and bring it back to her so she could eat it, I figured: I gotta get outta this place.”
“And I searched for her,” Florian says. “When I found her…she seemed dead. Surrounded by her friends, the dwarfs, I gave my true love our first and last kiss.”
“And, now,” says Snow White. “I’m some sort of rape victim.”
“It was a chaste kiss,” says Florian. “No tongue.”
“Oy! Was it chaste! But it turned the trick. We’ve been together since 1938.”
The Prince massages his forehead. “If I hadn’t kissed her, she’d be dead. Kaput! Shot! A Big Paperweight!”
At that point, the small door attached to the entrance door bangs open and the seven dwarfs stride in, led by Grumpy, who waves newspaper in the air. “Did you see this morning’s trades? We’re pedophiles because we took Snow White in to protect her! And the Prince is a necropheliac for making out with a ‘dead girl!’ WTF! Seriously, WTF?”
“!!!” adds Dopey.
Doc nods. “It’s one thing for big people to re-write history. ‘Oh, Hitler was a great artist and had a band that played bar mitzvahs.’ It’s another thing to slag fictitious characters. What kind of stupidity is involved, here?”
“???” replies Dopey.
Grumpy simmers. “This whole ‘I believe in this so it’s fact!’ has gotten far outta hand.”
“STICK THE LOVE THAT WE HAVE FOR EACH OTHER IN THEIR DANGED FACES.”
The Prince sags onto a chair and turns to this reporter. “It’s more than that. The only reason we’re here, in your human world, is that people believe in us. Walt Disney brought us to life and the generations of boys and girls and moms and dads keep us alive. If they stopped believing in the purity of our behavior? This house will become a parking lot.”
This reporter sits, silently. Finally, an idea occurs. “Okay, now this will sound strange but why don’t you all call Disney. Volunteer to go that park and act out all your greatest hits. Maybe get a float in the parade. The people there will be awed by the fact that you are real and you’re still together. You can each sing your famous songs. It would be like flipping the bird to the naysayers who think: pure emotions are dead.”
“I like that,” says Grumpy. “Stick the love we have for each other in their danged faces.”
We all hug and dance as this reporter leaves the mini-castle.
This scribe won’t spoil the mood by telling them that the dancing hippos in Fantasia
have just been picked up for indecent exposure.