In those early morning hours, during my desperate fight against Disney Disease, is when Walt's dirty, evil spirit flipped on my brain's poisonous soundtrack and Belle lurched into her enchanting tune... over and over and over again. Although the toxins in my stomach were fleeing at an alarming rate, I simply could not escape from that ******* provincial life, leading me to believe Belle was raised in Silent Hill. I was a prisoner trapped in my own body, unable to reassure or soothe myself outside of contemplating suicide by somehow hijacking and flying a 747 into Belle while a second airliner hits Gaston.
So, in other words, bring medicine with you.
