My cable company made all the premium channels free over Thanksgiving weekend, so I recorded some movies. One of these was Frozen, because I wanted to know what half the kids on the planet Earth were so excited about.
So a few nights ago, I watched it. And frankly, I thought it was brilliant. Not only did it have great music and wonderful visuals, but it's written really well: The writers know that this is probably not your first Disney movie, and that you therefore have certain expectations about what is going to happen. And they use those expectations to completely screw with you, in some really good ways.
So now, fresh off NaNoWriMo with well over a dozen neglected in-progress stories waiting for me to work on them, I find that there is a stupid, stupid, stupid Frozen fanfic writing itself in my head. And the only thing I fear more than the shame of writing it is the disappointment of not writing it.
For Christ's sake, I'm a childless man in my mid-forties. Shouldn't I be immune to this sort of nonsense? I mean, it's freakin' DISNEY.
Please kill me. Then the bunnies. Then me again, just to be sure.