Ruin'd by Disn'y

I can imagine how it might be within the darkest regions of Northern California: Cute teenage faerie, conditioned by years of coddling and positive affirmation, seeks to realize what all have been alluding to as long as she could recall, and ventures south for a new life as a budding starlet.  Destination: Mouse House.

But the further south she flutters, the colder such a realization becomes -- her Technicolor dream now tinged with sepia. She can only fly tens of miles per day, from town to town, rather than from tree to tree.  She grows tired and slightly confused.  It's common knowledge faeries are as stupid as the tree stumps they play upon, and her initial conclusion from a state map left by some wayward traveler was that Los Angeles is only 9.5 human inches away, as simple a trip as there can be.

She arrives in Los Angeles after pulling several tricks in Santa Barbara for some food and shelter (sparrows can be quite hospitable for the "right price"), but now a new villain called smog envelops her, limiting her flight to only several miles per day, rather than tens.  Her eyes runny, her clothes brown with soot, her hair as interwoven and matted as a rastafarian, she finally finds her trek come to an end at the Disney Studios.  Tinkerbell is legend in her parts, and this little faerie is seeking to take her rightful place as the heir to this most storied creature.  She is going to make it in this town.  She... is going to be a "star".

She... didn't know anything about "animation" or CGI.  Because, of course, faeries are stupid.

The long and winding trip home, almost ended prematurely by a brisk Santa Ana wind gust, is torture for her.  Disillusioned and unfeeling, she pulls twice as many tricks northward as she did southward, her nadir being a pole dance at a local squirrel dive in Wrightwood for nuts and a half-eaten Payday bar.  But, as a shameful return to the hallowed forest of her upbringing draws closer, she discovers (quite by accident) the joys of marijuana as she rested upon a smoky VW high.  A rocking 1966 VW Bus, painted in the worst Dutch Boy yellow and blue. A pair of UCLA rejects traveling north to apply at UC Santa Cruz.  Unbeknownst to these two wasted fellows, the faerie hitches a ride, both upon the rack of their Volkswagen as well as upon the smoky remains of their Jamaican Gold.  It takes the edge off. It enlightens her.  Failed expectations?  Shame?  

Screw it.  

As her ride comes to an end, she finds a discarded sandwich bag and hauls off a load of weed from the half-unconscious co-eds.  Her first criminal act!  How delightful.

She makes it back home, and there is no shame in her eyes.  She comes face to face with her expecting parents, and there is no defeat in her heart.  Her friends attempt to console her, and there is no inhibition in her mind.  In a brief span of several minutes, she maims her sister by tearing off her wings,  has hot faerie sex with her BFF's boyfriend, and becomes the unquestioned diva of her domain when she shivs the reigning "hot shit faerie" with a concealed rose thorn.  Caring what others think is no longer a requisite for living, since in her enlightened mind what she's really been doing all of her life is merely "existing", conforming to social norms, following the clique.  Now, SHE is the clique, and all who follow may gain access to her stash. All who oppose... may suffer a terrible faerie fate.

This cute teenage faerie, once conditioned by years of coddling and positive affirmation, seeking to realize her dreams of stardom in Hollywood, is now the undisputed crime lord of Marigold Forest.  And within these darkest regions of Northern California, all is right with the world.

.....?

I've got WAY too much time on my hands.