Wednesday, November 3, 2010

Walt Disney's Corpse is Reanimated! Dies Moments Later.

On December 15, 1966, Walt Disney died.  Children everywhere threw tantrums and many cartoons were left without homes.  Within just a few short months, Mickey Mouse was spotted slinging crack in bad part of town and Goofy was buying it up in bulk quantities.  Donald Duck was detained at an airport in Miami with a pound of heroin rammed up his tail feathers.  Snow White and The Seven Dwarves exploited a very narrow audience with their fetish website, "".  Maulings in the Animal Kingdom skyrocketed and Epcot...well Epcot did nothing because it's full of cold, emotionless robots. 

Welcome to the Thunderdome.

So what was it that caused the death of one of the friendliest faces in history?  "They" tell us that it was lung cancer that did him in, but Strange Times knows "They" personally and we can attest to the fact that "They" are dirty fucking little bastard-ass cheating lying weasel-bags full of scum. Not only did Walt Disney not die of cancer, but he didn't die at all!

Back from the grave, bitches!

Although Disney did indeed have cancer, that is not what called him to the great beyond.  Legend has it that he went in for a routine neck surgery to fix an old polo injury, but doctors found a large tumor on his left lung.  They gave the Father of Animation six months to a year to live.  The story goes that he collapsed a month later due to a heart attack.  He was resuscitated, but died weeks later in the hospital.  Many can testify that the last thing Disney ever wrote was Kurt Russell's name on a piece of paper, but no one, including Kurt Russell, have any idea why...but that's a rabbit hole that we are in no way prepared to go down right now.

It's like the Da Vinci Code, but way more badass.

We must admit that this far-fetched tale is an impressive web of lies.  Elaborate attempts by skeptics and "Walt Disney's family" to cover up the truth are plentiful, but we all know what really happened.  The real story is that Walt was cryogenically frozen and has been sitting dormant beneath the Pirates of the Caribbean ride for over 40 years.  It's a fact.

If people don't care enough to disprove it, it's a FACT!

At the time of his "death", the science of cryonics was wobbly at best, but just like with the gas lines in that children's daycare we built, there's nothing a little chewing gum and duct tape won't fix.  Even with the substantial list of possibly catastrophic outcomes, Disney had himself frozen anyway.  He claimed that mental and physical deterioration, as well as the possibility of shattering like an icicle falling from a skyscraper, did not scare him.

He went on to say that he would be "honored to obtain the power of the mighty icicle."  What can we say...Disney was a weird guy.

So it was decided.  Disney's body was cooled to the boiling point of liquid nitrogen, which in Kelvins is "uber-chilly".  He did this in hopes that the future would contain the key to revival of the dead and gift of immortality.  One day, he hoped to see how his empire had grown and to once again spread happiness to little boys and girls across the world.  Also, he doubted that Jews were going away anytime soon and he knew that he would be needed. 

Like an Anti-Semitic TV Dinner

Disney remained in his frozen vegetable form for over forty years, but yesterday marked the day when he made his glorious return to life.  Well, maybe not glorious, but he did come back to life...sort of. Due to our ever-expanding knowledge of the universe and how to fuck with it, scientists recently discovered how to cure lung cancer.  Yeah, bet you didn't think this is the first place you'd hear about it, huh?  Well they did.  So the first order of business was to ignore all of the thousands of living people with cancer and get right to bringing back Disney.    

The technician that made the call to revive Walt advised to not allow Disney to watch Toy Story 3 because his tear ducts would explode into his brain if he cried.

The task of unfreezing Disney would prove to be a massive medical challenge that if successful, would go down in various textbooks, papers, and shit that nobody reads anyway (like Strange Times!).  Not only did they have to delicately thaw him out like a honey-baked ham for Bathtub Meat Day, but they had to eradicate his terminal cancer immediately.  Although there were many other potentially disasterous variables, the team in charge of handling the task simply decided to say "fuck it" and pull the switch, releasing Walt from his frozen prison.  

"What are you doing there?"  "Putting this blue shit into this egg-looking shit.  I don't know.  I'm a fucking scientist, alright?"

Just as they began the unfreezing process, they realized something was amiss...Disney's head.  During the pioneer days of cryonics, removing the head was thought to be crucial to the reanimation.  "In retrospect, we probably should have left it on," said Head Cryonics Technician Michael Bunkbed. "Back then, the science community did a lot of stuff sort of haphazardly.  Crazy stuff...unspeakable stuff.  Seriously, I can't talk about it."  He went on to assume that the head-removal was done in case that the original body was damaged, so they would be able to upload the brain into a new body.

Look kids!  Walt Disney!

Panic struck as the team scrambled to reattach the head to Disney's body before the thawing process was complete.  The staff succeeded in sewing the head back on, but were said to have done a crude job with the stitching because they were all "fucking terrified at what was going to happen next".  As the final drop of "warming-slop" was absorbed into Disney's bloodstream...a "miracle" happened.  The technicians lined the walls with fright as Disney rose on the operating table like Frankenstein's monster.

IT LIVESSS!  Finally they can make Pocahontas 2...what's that?  They already did?  Where the fuck have we been?

Within moments, Disney was on his feet.  He stood silently, staring at the floor.  He lifted his hand up to his face as if to prove his rebirth to himself.  His head cranked upwards and his eyes pierced through the souls of everyone in the room.  There was something not quite right within Walt.  Something was missing.  Yes he walked, but there was still a vacancy of life that everyone in the room could feel.  No one dared blink.  No one uttered a sound.  The heavens seemed to be in the very room with them, waiting to give their final judgement on whether or not this man could defy destiny and return to life.  Seconds seemed like centuries, but finally God intervened.  We were bold enough to try to question mortality.  God's answer: Fuck no.

It could have been, "FuuuuuuUUUCK NOOOOOOO!"  We don't remember.

Disney's blood began circulating at full capacity, but soon started spewing and spraying out of his amateurishly sutured neck.  Pint after pint of blood enveloped the white of the walls and nurses began screaming wildly and frantically clawing at the door.  Some of the male scientists scrambled to get out of the operating room, but in doing so, knocked over a cabinet full of chemicals that ignited the floor in a furious blaze.  Supervisors in the observation deck sealed off the exit for fear that Disney would escape the premises and reek havoc on the living.  This, this thing was no longer the man that the world had once loved.  He had become the Angel of Death and was surely looking to exact vengeance upon humanity.

It is said in the Prophecy of Pooh that, "A great kingdom shall be built upon the suffering of the innocent.  The resurrection of our lord shall provide a vessel for the beast that cannot be named."

Those brave enough to try and restrain Disney met a fate worse than death.  They held onto his arms, but Walt viciously twirled around the room, gnashing his teeth and allowing an evil reverberation to erupt out of his still-frozen vocal cords that replicated the growling hymns of Lucifer's chorus.  His eyes rolled back in his head and he began chomping down on mouthfuls of neck-flesh, allowing his teeth to be plucked out from his gums because they had been so far embedded into the bones of his oppressors.
The sounds of ripping skin and shouts of futile mercy ceased as Disney made a mad dash for the door that had now been opened due to a squadron of lost souls possessing the security controls.  He flailed aimlessly and sped down the adjacent corridor towards freedom.  Just as he burst through the doors and let the sunlight he had been starved of for so many blackened years wash over his rejuvenated body, the National Guard arrived on the scene wielding crucifixes, holy water, and broom-handle things.

Yeah, we're definitely fucking doomed.

Disney eyed up the dozens of armed personnel that stood before him.  A storm rose up over the horizon, but was unlike any weather-related phenomenon history had ever seen.  Thunder roared like the savage lion moments before it pounces.  Lightning whipped across the sky like deadly vipers striking arteries.  God was among them, but could do nothing.  What would happen would happen and there was no divinity to be found.  Hopelessness was solidified as a torrential downpour of man-spider hybrids were released from somewhere unseen.  Oh how they loathed their very being!  Two species infused into a monstrous abomination that was incapable of feeling, relating, or forgiveness.  They massacred the public and desecrated landmarks with their threads of acidic webbing.  

The ground shifted beneath the feet of those who were now fleeing; clinging desperately to survival.  A tremendous fault opened up in the Earth's crust and thousands of angry scorpions and hornets were summoned into the mix of this nightmarish reality.  Wherever they sensed life, they stung unmercifully.  Pleading was drowned out by the marching of fire ants as they traversed legs and burrowed into ribcages, feasting upon the organs within.  Oceans churned with blood and poisonous winds brought the scent of despair.  Demonic legions burned crops and salt-raped the ground to the point of infertility.  A fog of impossible color poured out of the fault and inspired indescribable gloom across the globe.  Suicide rates rose to previously unthinkable heights as the presence of holy intervention seemed to have vanished from life itself.  

It was so much worse than this.  So much fucking worse.

Archangels and God's Army descended from the inferno that the sky had become.  Walt Disney hurtled towards the angelic onslaught on his steed made of infant skulls and sinews trailed behind.  He was cloaked in rags and ribbons of meat, dripping with blood and bile, yet there was something forgivable about what he was doing.  In a strange way that defied all logic and faith, this needed to happen.  There was a collision between the two.  A clash that would determine who gained control of all of our afterlives.  Sound and light, God and Satan all combined in a split-second that created entirely new universes, but obliterated millions of others.  Lifeforms were born and killed in instants and entire lifetimes and timelines were constructed and collapsed.  A veil of dust was swept up and irreversibly blocked out the stars.

And then...all was calm.  All traces of Disney and the chaos he had created were nowhere to be found.  All destruction had been undone. Memories wiped clean. We can only assume that Walt is dwelling deep, deep into dead space; beyond our realms of comprehension.  Locked in some sort of cage made out of electricity and prayers.  Birds hesitantly resumed their fanfare.  Life sputtered back into existence and began again as if this biblical event had no significance whatsoever...

What are we gonna do now?  We're going to Disneyland!

Phew...and yeah, that's pretty much how it happened.  Strange Times was lucky enough to be in the middle of this event and let us tell was nuts.  You didn't see it?  How did you not see it?!  Awww, dude.  It was so fucking cool.  We learned the secrets of the cosmos and the meaning of life and shit.  Yeah, that was something that'll probably never happen again.  Too bad you missed it.  What were you doing anyway?  Reading Strange Times?  Bummer, man.

1 comment:

  1. Strange Times would like to officially apologize for not recognizing Mayor-Elect Pat Levy as a contributor of this article. Thank you for all of your ideas and inspiration and may God bless your campaign for Mayor of Geneva, IL in 2013!