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Disney Disaster or just another day?
by Turtle Jones
Since Michele is asleep and I'm bored and jacked out on generic M&M's I thought I would finish the 1986 story off. Yes, they do sell generic M&M's. Do they suck? Yeah. They suck. But really, I'm smoking a cigar right now. Who really cares about the taste of candy? Sugar shakes and cigars. Eat enough of these and you can see jesus. So as a continuation to our earlier story, I thought I'd kick out something to finish the story.
Well, almost finished.
This was 1986.
This was Disneyland.
We were coming up on the peak of getting our acid buzz and escaping from Disney cops.
My brother ran right. I ran left. They chased us for a bit, well they chased me, but gave up quick. I hit some sidewall where the Disney actors all came out. From behind some fence. Light blue wall. I sucked in air to get my head somewhat right. Bummed a smoke off a worker. Sat down low. Crouched on my knees and just watched. Keep low and get ready to run again. Something either was happening or wasn't happening. I have no clue what the scene was but the entire cast of Snow White was marching out beside me. Snow White was telling me I couldn't smoke there. Shut the fuck up. She kept yelling. I flipped a cigarette at one of the dwarves and nailed him in the back. Snow White was fucking pissed. She came up and just yelled at me. I have no idea why, but she just kept yelling. I wasn't doing anything wrong. So why did I have this crappy, bad trip abomination from some shitty cartoon yelling at me?
I think she had a crush on me.
I smoke. I do that. Now I smoke cigars and I notice people don't get as agitated with cigars. I can smoke one of those in a mall and people just comment that it stinks. Not like cigarettes where they tell you that their kids are dying like flies in front of you cause of your selfish addiction.
Meh. It's why I started smoking cigars, but that's another story. I bummed another cigarette and headed over to Haunted Mansion. I was trying to hit on Snow White and anyone of the Seven Dwarves. They were all chicks. I could tell. Sure it's weird talking to a giant dwarf wacked out on LSD, but hey dude, the suns gonna go down soon and inside that suit is a broad so I gotta roll with it.
I was different back then, ok?
The Mansion. Fuck. I had to get to the Mansion. Head spinning. Sweat dripping. I made it.Walk walk run run. I found it. I found him. Covered in sweat. My brother magically pulled a pack of Reds out his pocket and gave me one. See. This is why I hate social smokers. They pull this shit all the time. The "I don't have any. Do you?" bullshit.
But that is beside the point. I had found him and we hadn't lost many articles of clothing getting away. So it was cool. I was fucked up on like five different drugs and we needed something to do. We needed something. Just nothing too intense. Nothing too fast. My head was blowing apart and I just needed a break. That. What's that thing? Right there. That raft. What is that? A raft that took you out to "Tom Sawyer's Island". A little island in the middle of the park. With some kind of cave and a little beach. Hey, I'm from California so beaches are where I live. Well, beaches and "Wendy's". Well, maybe not "Wendy's" any more. I get alot of shit for the crap food I eat from Michele. So let's just say "I'm from California and get over it. I like beaches and Panera salads." Just cut my balls off, Michele. Here's the knife.
So anyways, I could barely stand. Some guy with a bad accent was my crutch. He was holding me up. The drugs were taking their toll. Hard core. I stumbled off the raft and walked onto the beach.
This wasn't a beach. Some sort of cave. I want to swim. Water is wet. I'm hot. What's with the mouse? Kids. I don't like kids. I think they are talking backwards. Something satanic...or maybe German. The air is hard to breathe. It is red air. Red air makes my lungs tired. I need to swim. Water is wet. I'm hot. What's with the mouse? Kids. I don't like kids. I think they are talking backwards. Something satanic...or maybe German. The air is hard to breathe. It is red air. Red air makes my lungs tired. I want to swim. Water is wet. I'm hot. What's with the mouse? Kids. I don't like kids. I think they are talking backwards. Something satanic...or maybe German. The air is hard to breathe. It is red air. Red air makes my lungs tired.
That acid was good.
I sat on a cliff on Tom Sawyers Island smoking a cigarette with my brother. Kids everywhere. Our feet hung off this cliff as we both sat looking at the Haunted Mansion tripping balls wondering what we had to do next. The money was gone. The liquor was drank. The pot was all smoked. The pills had been popped.
And I was numb.
I couldn't remember anything. Where I lived, who my friends were. I couldn't remember anything. Inhaling was getting hard. Hold it together turtle. Hold it together.
A voice from behind.
"What happens if I push you off this cliff?"
Wait. What? Was that to me?
"What happens if I push you real hard?"
I turn around and my vision was like one of those "After School Specials." He wasn't talking to me. He was talking to my brother. Slow spin destruction in my eyes. What the fuck was going on here? Slow drift of trails and nicotine whifts. It was a kid. A little kid with a kiddie leash around his neck. Those coiling things that are hooked from the kids neck to the dads arm. Looks like some bad Peavy coily cord. Something I wouldn't even tie my dog up to. Thick German accent. 7 year old.
My brother turned around and looked him dead in the eyes.
"If you do, that guy kills you dead."
He points at me.
Oh great. Let's just fuck this whole day up.
The kid ran crying back to his parents speaking in something weird, satanic or German, language. Fuck if I know. All I knew was by the reaction on this guys face, I better stand up. My brother, as he always does, remained oblivious of the whole situation. German dad walked towards him and asked him what he said. Brother says "What?" German dad pushes him. Brother looks at me confused. German dad pushed him again. Turtle flicks his smoke out in the water he wanted to swim in. Brother says you need to leave me alone. German dad pushes him again. Turtle grabs him by the neck and moves him back to the wall.
"Ok. I don't like to this kind of stuff but if you fucking touch him again I will make you fucking hurt, you stupid son of a bitch."
Well, I still do have protection issues. I don't give a fuck what you do, but if you fuck with someone I love, I kinda turn. I can take alot, but I can't take someone fucking with my own. It just the way it is. I can get my ass beat down and i won't give a fuck. But, if you kick my innocent dog, slap my girl, or punch one of my friends around you will be going home in a ambulence. Something just takes over me. Michele knows the way I work. Ask her.
So I pinned this guy up against some rock and held him back while my brother got his sense and walked away. I let the German guy go and asked him if he was ok. That's what I do. He wanted to know why I did that. I told him cause he was threatening my brother. I had a Pepsi in my front pocket and I gave it to him. I got back on the raft and headed to the Haunted Mansion.
The Pepsi was just a peace treaty.
Hell, it only cost me four dollars.
And the Haunted Mansion was still coming up.
And we were peaking.