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Archive for November, 2009
(Continued From Princess)
Belle of BEAUTY AND THE BEAST had a very worried look on her face. She had taken the seat closest to mine, and kept her gloved hand in mine as I bitterly complained about the sad turns my life had taken. She regarded me with a look of sympathy, but I could tell her benevolent look of quiet understanding masked a terrible sense of foreboding. Belle listened patiently as I told the tale of my former life of Hollywood fabulousness that had degenerated into a married-with-children calamity. In weepy torrents, it spilled out of me.
I told Belle of my glorious days of hedonistic sexual promiscuity, how’d I’ve been to Nice and the isle of Greece while I sipped champagne on a yacht. I
lamented how I had moved like Harlow in Monte Carlo and showed them what I’ve got.
How’d I’d been undressed by kings and seen some things that a gay boy ain’t
s’pose to see, how sadly I’d been to paradise but I’ve never been to me.
As tiny tears rolled down Belle’s carefully powdered cheeks, she blew her Shiksa nose into a tiny gold satin handkerchief. She collected herself, rose and as dozens of cute, fuzzy woodland creatures suddenly surrounded us, Belle began to sing in the sweetest, clearest voice.
Hey lady, you lady
cursing at your life
you’re a discontented father
with a hideous, shallow life
I `ve no doubt
you dream about the things you never do
but I wish someone had a talk to me like I wanna talk to you
Please lady please lady
don’t just walk away
Cause I have this need to tell you
why I’m not alone today
I can see so much of me
still living in your eyes
won’t you share a part
of a weary heart that has lived a million lives?
As Belle continued to sing, I casually glanced around Ariel’s Grotto and could see that
Aurora and Cinderella were giving me the stink eye as Snow White furiously screeched
into a walkie-talkie.
Belle’s verse had come to an end and as she and all the woodland creatures peered
at me expectantly, I decided to throw caution to the wind. I took Belle’s hygienically
gloved hands, waltzed around the room, and while trampling beaming kiddies in
their cheap, Disney Princess knock-off costumes sang:
Sometimes I’ve been to crying for unborn children
that might have made me complete
but I, I took the sweet life
I never knew I’d be bitter from the sweet
I spent my life exploring
the subtle whoring
that costs too much to be free
hey lady I’ve been to paradise
but I’ve never been to me…
As we waltzed, Snow White put Ariel’s Grotto into full lock-down and had bitchily
alerted the security guards, disturbingly attired like Prince Charming, to take me out.
Time was not on my side…
(To be Continued)
Yesterday, I had the pleasure of visiting the happiest place on Earth, Disneyland, sans child. Decked-out in my Sovorsky Crystal encrusted Mickey Mouse ears (Yes, I underpaid my nanny to painstakingly apply every precious crystal by hand.) I giddily wandered through Fantasyland, Frontierland, Tomorrowland and Adventureland as if in a dream. As my son had not been invited to attend, there were none of the usual banal cries like ‘I’m hungry,’ or ‘I’m tired,’ nor my personal favorite, ‘Daddy please stop doing the choreography to GET’CHA HEAD IN THE GAME from High School Musical, you’re so not Zac Effron – you’re just pathetic.’ I was able to wander the park gaily. (God, I’ve so wanted to use that word!)
I flounced from Pirates of the Caribbean to The Haunted Mansion to Space Mountain preening in my sparkly ears, happily unfettered by the whiny demands of my son who last year had the audacity to announce that he did not care for Disneyland as the rides were ‘scary’ and ‘loud.’ Can you imagine such a grotesque pronouncement? Naturally, I berated him for being some kind of pinko-commie, un-American, unholy, agitator-terrorist and reminded him that Disneyland was a God-given privilege not an earthly right. Like Lucifer my son Ethan was now officially cast out of the kingdom of heaven and would remain so until he was imbued with the light and goodness of our God, Walt Disney, whose frozen, Nazi-sympathizing head is rumored to be held fittingly in suspended animation beneath Space Mountain.
Like the Shroud of Turin or the Veil of Veronica, Walt’s frozen head is a holy relic, whose viewing is strictly reserved for the most exalted of Disney pilgrims. Despite my Jewish roots and propensity for flamboyance (wink, wink) I’m praying that with the purchase of enough overpriced season passes in addition to buying all those Chinese manufactured Disney ‘collectables‘ I too will be permitted to view Walt’s head and like Salome kiss his dead, frozen lips. Please God Walt, let me be worthy!
I was particularly humbled on this particular day I was granted entrance to Ariel’s Grotto, which like the Roman House of Vestal Virgins, is home to the purest, wisest, and most enlightened women in the Kingdom of Heaven, The Disney Princesses. Like the Vestals, the Disney Princesses are pure of heart, chaste, and beyond reproach. The answers to life’s most damning questions can be found here. Sibyl-like, the Disney Princesses are omnipotent, their powers absolute.
I do not speak and keep my head respectfully bowed as I descend the sweeping staircase that leads to Ariel’s Grotto. I take my place at a greasy table and nervously glance at the menu. I take a moment to foolishly debate with my fellow pilgrims whether to order the ghastly short ribs or anemic salmon when I suddenly feel a soft, gloved hand on my shoulder. I glance at my fellow pilgrims in alarm as their mouths have gone slack, their eyes wide, for as I slowly turn and follow their gaze, I peer into the flawless, shining face of Belle from Beauty and the Best.
“Well hello!” Belle says dreamily as she takes my hand in hers, “What brings such handsome men to the kingdom this fine day?”
Shocked, I stammer, “Oh Belle, I have so many questions, so many ‘issues,’ where do I begin?”
Belle gazes at me beatifically, thinks carefully and with unquestionable sincerity responds, “Perhaps, like any good story, you could start with ONCE UPON A TIME…“
(To Be Continued)
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