I spend an excessive amount of time thinking about the lives of fictional characters after their real story has ended, predominately because I’m insane and attach myself to imaginary things. While I use a lot of time to think of fanciful and happy futures for most of the characters I know and love, I also spend a lot of time being sickeningly worried for all of the Disney Princesses’ futures.
Most characters could have happy, or at least interesting and engaging, lives–but not the princesses.
Belle has to deal with a newfound furry and/or bestiality preference.
Jasmine can be assured that Aladdin has the clap because he made the monkey jack him off.
Snow White has to turn 13, y’all, and that is especially hard when a 28-year-old man molested you awake.
These princesses can deal, though. They will lead unfortunate, subordinate and boring lives (minus Mulan and Pocahontas, perhaps) but one bitch has it the toughest. One girl faces not only a sexist and slightly pedophilic future, but also the horrifying realities of who she’s become: Ariel.
Ariel is a pinnacle of women’s rights to begin with, what with all the voice giving up so she can bone a dude she’s known for a grand total of 18 seconds only to later leave everything she’s ever known, including her LOWER BODY to bone this dude for good in a castle.
It also helps her future prospects out that she’s 16-years-old, and we know that every 16-year-old girl usually never makes poor choices about men. Ariel’s daddy issues are as deep as my frown re: her backstory.
But you guys, LOVE AND SHIT.
Nope. It’s time for some fish-to-human realness, y’all. Should she choose to ignore all the hundreds of poor decisions she’s made up to this point (Ursula, hoarding, rights-abandoning), she’s still got to deal with a few major issues in her humanness.
Let’s Talk About Sex
Ariel has only known that humans have split fins instead of webbed, and not what goes on in the crotchal region because the mere idea of a crotch is foreign to fish. “The Talk” for mermaids involves eggs and tiny fucked-up looking baby fish and migration and a whole buffet of separate-species grossness. Now this bitch grows legs and gets married and shit is about to get unbelievably real.
First, Eric unties those unfortunately pleated pirate pants to reveal his decidedly un-fishy wang, and she’ll probably just start curling her hair on it because she’s naive, guys.
Then he’ll get to explain, “No Ariel, this goes in here. Poke,” and that’s like finding out that your husband’s dick is shaped like a star and you can only get pregnant from anal. You’d never believe him, and Ariel wouldn’t believe Eric. Hard to live happily ever after when the first 3 years are spent trying to debrief a fishbitch on the finery of boning.
Fish Will Shit Literally Anywhere
Fish don’t give a damn about where they shit. Even in a society as apparently advanced as King Triton’s, I imagine they gave up on toilets many hundreds of years ago because they tried it once and because of gravity and water, you basically just sat in a vortex of poop every time you go to the bathroom.
Imagine sitting on your toilet and all the poops you ever pooped just whizzed around the room the entire time–you’d bail on the whole toilet thing too and just decide to poop wherever. It’s all just gonna be around anyway, so just let it go.
Opera seats? SHIT IT UP.
Fish Subway? SHIT THAT OUT.
Fancy date? SHITS GALORE.
On land, we have…what’s the word…fire, and also toilets and things, and we don’t just shit wherever. That’s going to make for an awkward wedding day when right in the middle of dinner, Ariel drops one without batting an eye and Eric suddenly realizes that this is like marrying a totally separate species from a totally separate world because THAT’S EXACTLY WHAT IT IS.
Enjoy your marriage, you guys. Built on lies and trickery, won on murder, and held together through Eric’s pure will to fuck that which has never been fucked before, in spite of the grossness.
Am I the only one who thinks too much about fake people? What other horrifying endings have you thought about for the Princesses? Did I miss any for Ariel in particular?– Favorite Comment From The Last Post: From Valerie: “The clementine candle could also be called “How to make a molotov out of an orange and Hope.” Or maybe I have “issues” or whatever.”