FLO Blackmail Journal-Day 9 (Or: All 'Toons Die, But Not
All 'Toons Truly Live)

By Raine

It was happening again...

The recurring dream I used to have was back. Again and again, as before, I tossed and turned until I finally woke, sweating and reflexively gathering my M16 from
underneath my one-of-a-kind promotional "Goofy Movie" knitted comforter, aiming
sleepy-eyed at an invisible Toon hallucination, and weeping, yell, "Gooofyyyyyyyy......" as I spray the walls with ammo.

He is there, in my dream, grinning sappily at me, hurriedly straightening his clothes and stripping off the last of the duct tape as I direct placid tourists spilling out from Space Mountain to the nearest overpriced concession selling questionable
meat products. I remind them that Disney is very glad that they came, and smile widely. It is once again spring and peak season for the park, so the animal mill behind MoroccoLand is churning out hamburgers and hot dogs at an amazing rate, whacking off small flying creatures and cats almost as fast as people can say "MMMMmmmm....Good burger, but tough." Goofy and I snigger helplessly, and pants some unsuspecting Chipmunk on our way out of the park.

Ah, the good times.

My dream then flips forward to the day it happened, the dark day when Goofy finally lost it for good. Tinkerbell, Goof and I are there, on the beach playing "hunt
down the sightseer" with passers-by, chasing them down screaming, barefooted with a titanium nine-iron. I guess there was always just something about the sight of a six-foot mammal of questionable species lumbering around with a golf club and screaming, "D-D-D-D-DIE (h'yUK) T-TOURIST (h'yUK, yUK) SC-C-C-CUM!!!!", with a murderous gleam in his big black eyes that just seemed to drive most people away.

The rage was always a joke back then, though, just a little fun, a few laughs before we went skinny-dipping in the ocean and Tinkerbell showed us how to "fly" with the Magic Fairy Dust she'd scored. Innocent.

That day, though, that black, black day, someone snuck up on poor Goof as he was
sunbathing, and I guess the dog just...Snapped somehow.

The court system finally decided that the 'reasonable person principle' did, indeed, cover hosing down a member of "Citizens for Amusement Park Culpability" with a mounted M203 with attached grenade launcher until the...remains...were bobbing out to sea, even after chasing them out, screaming and clubbing hysterically at the
bloody bits with Tink's magic wand while frothing at the mouth.

He stayed there, "H'Yuking" hysterically and screaming,

"Whooogolllyyy!!!!, in the reddened water until the police finally arrived.

In spite of the facts of the case, though, I had my doubts about
Goofy's innocence. I could smell Disney money all over his release.

After he was set free, I found I was right. The Goofy I once loved
was a changed dog, twisted in ways I couldn't even comprehend.

Now he is after me, out for payback because I wouldn't go over with him...Because I found Frohike.

I am tired of his games, and finally ready to tango with the sadistic creature I used to love, missed Thorazine refill or no. My bunker is now wired to initiate a self-destruct sequence with one touch of the remote control to the Disney Channel, or upon one overly enthusiastic "H'yuk! or WhooGOLLY!"

I may die, dear FLOvians, but I am taking the dog with me.


Headgear Princess

FLO Government-in-Exile