Pantomime Animals
Have you stopped laughing now? Good.

The sight of a human masquerading as a misshapen, lumpy, ill-proportioned animal leaves me soaked in cold, panicky sweat; reeling with gut-wobbling horror.

No idea how this started; but sometimes when (at a street carnival for example) I see a mother patiently dragging her bawling, struggling infant closer to a 'happy tiger/rabbit/whatever' I think: Ah-ha.
Lady, can you not see this apparition through the eyes of your child? It's a fucking monstrosity.

No, I never pestered my parents to take me to Disney Land. Micky Mouse? Frankenstein's fucking lab-rat.

As an adult I have dropped all my shopping and nearly broken my nose running into a display window in Debenham's. What was I running from? The Tweenies.

I's the empty, moronic grin in their eye-holes. The fact that you can't tell if they are staring at you. The knowledge that in their role as *bringer of crazy-wacky-fun* they have no compunction about coming over and *touching you*. Shudder.

Street carnivals. Football mascots. Advertising minions. God-help-me: charity workers. Pantomine...

A great many of my friends at uni are in the light entertainment society. They do panto. They have props. I once opened a friends closet only to have *3* headless pantomime nightmares fall out on top of me. She kept them in a dark closet: way to compound the residual childhood anxiety.

Trigger Happy TV. If one of those costume stunts happened to me I would certainly have a shit-story for you guys. The though makes me sweat needles. I would have a stroke. I would become unhinged and die a slow undignifed death. Dribbling. I dream about this and wake up screaming.

There is not space on the internet to tell you how I feel about Furries.

Length? 7 foot tall and made out of diseased nylon plush.
(hahasnakes, Fri 11 Apr 2008, 11:41, 1 reply)

You get a
*click*
I don't trust them either.
( Cawl, Fri 11 Apr 2008, 11:45, closed)