PINOCCHIO ENDORSES THE EXPECTANT MOTHER DISINFORMATION HANDBOOK!

There I was, strolling past Mr. Toad's Wild Ride, just minding my own business, when this wooden street urchin named Pinocchio rushed up to me out of nowhere, tapped me on the shoulder, and said in a disturbingly high-pitched voice, "I want to help you promote your wonderful new book, THE EXPECTANT MOTHER DISINFORMATION HANDBOOK!" 

"Jesus Christ!" I said, recoiling from this moon-eyed, oversized marionette. After I got over my initial shock, I replied, "Uh, yeah, sure, kid. You can ride my coattails. Why the hell not?" 

So he handed me his personal copy of THE EXPECTANT MOTHER DISINFORMATION HANDBOOK and said, "Hold this up for the camera over there and smile really big for me!" 

"Camera?" I said. "What camera? What the fuck're you talking about, kid?" 

He used his bright white, comically large gloves to point out his personal photographer in the teeming crowd milling through Fantasyland. A human-sized mutant cricket named Jiminy held up a 1950s-style flash camera and snapped a photo of me with my arm around the kid's fragile, bony shoulders. Masking the horror I felt as I watched the spindly, multiple legs of this hideous insect operate the camera, I managed to approximate something resembling a rictus grin during the few moments it took to snap the picture.

Immediately after the dark deed had been completed, Pinocchio turned to me and said, "Oh, I dearly loved your new book simply because it has the word 'mother' in the title. I-I dream about mothers all the time." The words caught in his throat. "I never had a real mother, you see... unless you count the Blue Fairy."

"Blue Fairy?" I said. "What the fuck? Is that like Orange Sunshine? Are you high or something? What's wrong with you, kid?"

Tears brimming in his flying-saucer-sized eyes, Pinocchio held the book out to me with shaking hands and said, "M-may I have your autograph, sir?"

"What the hell?" I shouted. "I don't have time for that crap! You've served your purpose, kid. I don't need you anymore, you pathetic wooden gamin!" I gave him a violent push that knocked him over onto his ass. He clacked like a box of Lincoln Logs as his wooden butt hit the cobblestones. My book went flying into the watery canal surrounding nearby Storybook Land. 

Tears streamed down Pinocchio's whittled face as Jiminy reached down to help him to his feet. After I had walked away a few feet, I turned toward that multi-eyed, radioactive arthropod and said, "You better make sure you send that photo to my PA before midnight or I'll sick my lawyer on your invertebrate ass!" 

Just another day in the Happiest Place on Earth.