The Face of Armageddon
There I sat, unknowing, uncaring, inappropriately excited for the latest batch of Pixar generated heartness, as a cold dread snuck up on me. "Bah, 'tis merely the air conditioning," I thought, "at worst, it is the signaled end of the theater chain's pre-canned commercial programming for children heralding the showing of Wall-E I am attending."
Thus was the unnerving intuition I felt couched, and it was with alarming alacrity that I ignored my better instincts on the matter. For, had I been paying attention, I surely would've left the theater in search of refreshments when the following transpired:
It all starts innocently enough: exotic footage of ancient Mayan ruins, a vaguely Mexican accented voice over, the Disney logo. "Ah, a Disney documentary about Mayans, with a slightly humorous bent. I won't see it, but, this sure looks harmless enough."
And then, there came upon my eyes, a visage so horrifying as to nearly escape description...Nearly. For you see this beast has a name, and that name is A Talking Chihuahua.
Not just a talking chihuahua, it insinuates, it winks...it sings. It has friends that do choreography while they're singing...I doubt the creators of Reggaeton had this in mind when they crafted the aggressively tempoed melange of music they created. Dear god, you can't escape it. You can't stop hearing the song.
Combined with those eyes, those eerily rat like eyes, staring at you. Staring, never blinking, and where do they keep coming from?
OH GOD THERE'S SO MANY OF THEM WITH THE SINGING AND THE STARING AND THE WINKING AND THE LOOKING RIGHT AT YOU NEVER STOPPING THE BUSBY BERKELEY CIRCLES AND THE SONG IT NEVER ENDS IT JUST GOES ON AND ON AND ON AND ON MAKE IT STOP MAKE IT STOP PLEASE MAKE IT STOP!!!