I produced this movie


And I haven't been able to sleep since. I knew what I was doing was wrong, but I needed the money so bad. I'm in hock with the bookies $50,000, and I have a $200 a day coke habit. When I do manage to nod off for a few minutes, I see the decaying corpse of Walt Disney cursing me. He asks me in his grisly, undead voice why I would tarnish the good name of Walt Disney Pictures. Before I can make up a lie to cover my transgressions he puts his bony fingers around my neck and chokes me until I wake up, screaming and crying in my sweat-soaked sheets. Please someone, kill me before I am forced to make another terrible movie that even small children will hate until the next crummy Disney straight-to-DVD comes out at which point my guilt-ridden production will be forgotten. Help me. Please...

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you could have made it a little less obvious that this is a fake. unless that was the point, in which case you failed at expressing it.

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What do you mean, fake? The only thing I failed at was making my parents proud. Please help me. Stop me before I make another dog movie and make Disney an even bigger laughing stock than it already is in the Hollywood community. I paid off my bookies for now, but it's only a matter of time before my addiction to drugs and prostitutes drags me behind a camera to make another doggy sequel. Please stop me. I don't know what I'll do next, but I can promise it will be terrible.

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For the love of god, man...just off yourself now. Before you have the opportunity to make another one of these awful movies. The hard part is over...you've realized what a failure you are and that this type of moviemaking must stop.

Simply end it...make the world a better place. But first go out and get yourself a couple hookers and an eight ball and go on one last binge...and then do the right thing.

Godspeed.




I wanna do bad things with you...

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