Monday, January 08, 2007
Tigger with Attitude
**INTERNAL NOTICE, PER SECTION SEVEN**EXTREMELY URGENT**
The following information has been designated CODE: UMBRA and is not for release or broadcast, internally or externally, under any circumstances. It is the sole property of Section Seven of the Walt Disney Company and may not be duplicated without the express written consent of a duty officer authorized SECURITY CLEARANCE MINNIE OR HIGHER. Please be advised that any attempt to violate or circumvent security and confidentiality measures will be met with the strongest possible penalties. This record will automatically be purged from the system should any breach be detected.
Location: Section Seven Interrogation Room 12, Underground Facility Delta
RE: Interrogation of Tigger (Transcript)
Agent: M. Leficent
ML: Can I get you anything?
Tigger: Uh... smoke?
ML: I'm sorry, you know we can't do that.
Tigger: Don't tell me what you can and can't do. Remember, I work here.
ML: Do I need to remind you of your confidentiality covenant?
Tigger: No... no you don't.
ML: Let's start at the beginning. Tell me what happened?
Tigger: You've seen the video. Isn't it obvious?
ML: The videotape you're referring to shows you punching a child -- one Jerry Monaco Jr. You know that can't be tolerated.
Tigger: A child? Are you fucking kidding me? That kid's at least 25!
ML: Mr. Tigger, sit down please -- and refrain from the use of profanity.
Tigger: Right, right. No profanity. Right.
ML: The father of the boy is saying that the incident was -- and I quote here -- "a nightmare."
Tigger: Oh yeah? And who's he saying that to? Let me guess -- any TV camera he can get his face in front of, right?
ML: He and his family have appeared on several network news programs.
Tigger: Hmm, I guess that whole Iraq thing must've resolved itself eh?
ML: There's no need for sarcasm.
Tigger: There's no need for any of this. Look, the little shit kept hassling me -- pushing me -- calling me "Tigga." Yo! What up my Tigga?! Yo! My name's TIGGER for Walt's sake. T-I-G-G-E-R. Those two goddamned chipmunks never have these problems.
ML: Once again, please watch your language. You bring up a point though Mr. Tigger. This isn't the first time we've had to talk to you. Have you forgotten 2004?
Tigger: How can I? You people won't let me. Yeah, so I grabbed a 13-year-old's boob, so what. Once again, you seen what kids look like these days? What do you expect from me? I'm a tiger. I have urges.
ML: You're not supposed to.
Tigger: Yeah, I want to talk to you about that shit. You did that completely against my will.
ML: It was a necessary procedure.
Tigger: Necessary my ass. I wonder how you'd like it if somebody castrated you. Since you're never gonna know -- let me fill you in: it doesn't take away your sex drive, all it does is make sure you can never do anything about it -- and you know what? All that does is make you really pissed off. The bottoms are the only things getting sprung on ole' Tigger these days.
ML: Are you saying then that it's that anger which caused you to lash out at the boy?
Tigger: What, are you Deafy the Eighth Dwarf or something? I didn't punch the kid. I was pulling away from little Eminem's death-grip and my paw accidentally hit him in the face. He'll live. If I'd wanted to rip him apart I could. Tiger, remember? At least I used to be.
ML: Well, this family is now threatening to sue. That presents the company with a bit of a problem.
Tigger: Of course they're threatening to sue. It's fucking Disney World. If this had happened at Mom & Pop's Flapjack Emporium in Kissimmee they'd take their free breakfast and that'd be that -- but they know they can get a fortune out of you guys. They're opportunistic vermin and you know it.
ML: That may be true, but...
Tigger: Look, you people are the best in the world at mindless self-promotion. Just give them a shitload of free passes, pile on the bunk about how this is the Happiest Place on Earth or whatever the hell, and be done with it. Or better yet, just make them, uh, how do I put this? "Disappear."
ML: Mr. Tigger...
Tigger: Uh-huh, didn't think I knew about that did you? You don't think us guys out in the park talk about what happens to all those kids who get hurt? How come nobody ever officially dies in this park, huh? How come they always seem to make it outside before kicking off eh? And while we're at it -- tell me about the Reedy Creek Improvement District there Mr. Disney.
ML: I'm afraid you're treading on very dangerous ground Mr. Tigger.
Tigger: You can't keep these dirty little secrets silent forever. We know the truth. We know all about you Section Seven guys. You can't shut us all up -- especially me. You know why? You know why you need Tigger?
Tigger: Because I'm the only one. That's the wonderful thing about me -- bitch.
ML: I'm afraid you operate under a false assumption Mr. Tigger. Everyone can be replaced -- even Walt himself.
Tigger: What the hell is that supposed to mean?
ML: We have technology you can't even begin to understand. Neither you nor anyone else is truly aware of what our Disney Imagineers are capable of.
Tigger: You... you're talking about...
ML: I'm talking about nothing Mr. Tigger. You and I are just having a conversation. That's all.
Tigger: Okay, look -- what do you want from me?
ML: I'm simply trying to get some answers.
Tigger: You want answers Agent Leficent? Okay, listen -- you pull me out of the jungle, cut off my penis, jack me up on amphetamines so that I'll bounce all over the fucking place and hopefully won't realize that I'm sharing the screen with an openly gay bear, a manic-depressive donkey, and a ham sandwich, then you make me spend every day of the rest of my life trying to placate shitheads like the Monaco family -- and all I get for my troubles is a cage out behind Frontierland, decent tranquilizers and the occasional dry-hump with Snow White. I'm sorry but I'm sick of this crap. Enough answers there for you?
ML: Hmm, you sound like you may have unresolvable issues Mr. Tigger.
Tigger: Wait... did you say unresolved or...
Tigger: Whoa there. Hold on a minute.
ML: I'm afraid you've left us no choice Mr. Tigger.
Tigger: No fucking way. NO FUCKING WAY. After all I've given to this company...
ML: Your years of service have been most appreciated, but it may be time to retire you to the Disney Vault.
Tigger: NO WAY! NOT THE VAULT! YOU'RE NOT PUTTING ME IN THERE! Come on, it's me -- Tigger. Of couse I say stupid things from time to time. My top is made out of rubber -- heh heh. Get it?
ML: Goodbye Mr. Tigger.
Tigger: I SHOULDA RIPPED THAT KID'S THROAT OUT! DEAR GOD! JUST TO TASTE BLOOD AGAIN! SWEET, SWEET BLOOD!!! HEY -- HEY -- WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?!?! LET GO OF ME YOU FUCKERS!!! LET... let... no... please...
ML: Yes. Sleep.
ML: Take this carcass to the incinerator, and call the Imagineers and tell them that we need a new Tigger by oh-eight-hundred tomorrow morning. Tell them to birth one from the pre-programmed batch, and make sure this one will behave.
Unknown: Should we run it by Walt Seventeen sir?
ML: No, no... don't disturb him. He needs time for his skin to regenerate. Do it under my authority for now.
Unknown: Yes sir.
ML (Singing): When you wish upon a star... makes no difference who you are...
**END OF TRANSCRIPT**