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If She Doesn’t Scare You, No Evil Thing Will.

by the Casual Swiss


Wig, whig, wigg, whigg…the correct spelling eludes me when I want to describe that Louis “wigged” out (to be irrational) within a few hours after stealing the car.  With the spelling I chose, I imagine that it would be wigged from “Wigger”.  Which, unflinchingly, is shortened defamatory slang for White Nigger.  Those traditionally branded with the title were the flocks of white boys that hung out in suburban malls with drooping pants and gangsta’ attitudes.  Laughable little punks fueled by rap videos.


Through some bend of linguistics, in my town these junior home-boys were called Guidos.  In almost the rest of America the term guido is reserved for Italians.  But, in my town we just called Italians by their first names.


Perhaps it is “wiging out” as in to flip one’s wig.  Or it would refer to the now defunct Whig political party.  In any case, Louis wigged out on an eight year old girl (estimated age).


Crawling away from the scene of the crime we kept to (Louisiana) back roads and slow streets.  So far, out crimes in America were restricted to seat belt laws, auto theft, and assault.  I didn’t think of it as gay-bashing.  Since Louis was also gay, it was just regular-bashing.  Slipping down a one-way street, Louis turned off the radio and rolled to a stop in front of the eight year old girl on a grassy street corner.  It was early morning in July

of 1995.


She was decked out in Pocahontas gear.  Cleaner than us, she had; Pocahontas shoes. Pocahontas school bag, Pocahontas lunch box, and a Pocahontas dress with fringes that gave it a Native American look.  “Hey.  Heeeeey guess you like the Pocahontas?”


GIRL:  What?


LOUIS:  I guess you like the Pocahontas.


GIRL:  Yeah.


LOUIS:  Yeah.  What are you going to, school?


SWISS:  It’s July.


LOUIS:  Summer school?


GIRL: “Big A” Camp.


LOUIS:  Does that involve Jesus?


GIRL:  Some.

SWISS:  Louis, if we’re looking for a Road Movie Third we should pick up a lawyer or an orangutan.


LOUIS:  Just a second…I haven’t seen Pocahontas, how does it end?


GIRL:  John Smith goes back and Pocahontas, she stays.


LOUIS:  Sad.  That’s not how it really happened.


GIRL:  no response


LOUIS:  No, she goes back to England and marries one of those other English guys.  Yeah, changes her name to Rebecca and becomes one of the first Tobacco Queens.  Yeah.  You like tobacco?  Disney left that part out!  You’ve got the whole works so you really should have the tobacco!


As if this entire set up wasn’t bad enough, Louis winged a carton of cigarettes at the little girl as she waited for her Bible Camp Bus alone on the corner.  The full carton of Kools bounced off her stomach as we pealed out and worked back to a main road.  “What?  Where did the cigarettes come from?”


“They were under the seat.”


“I don’t think she’ll smoke them.”


“It was just a visual aid, making a point.  You know.”


“Hmmph.”  Best to ease into this one.  Run some questions past Louis and see if he’s apt to do this sort of thing again.  “I can get taken in by some good marketing.  Pepsi.”  As a visual aid I lifted the can I bought back at a gas station.


“I guess Mountain Dew commercials got me,” he said in a normal tone and showing his own can.  “Now they show Mountain Dew drinkers as Extreme Sports types.  Running around, jumping over and off of shit.”


“Do the Dew.”


“Do the Dew. I like the Extreme Sports people.  They’re good people, lots of energy.  Travel around in jeeps listening to Beastie Boys with bandanas on their dogs.”


“Yeah.” I bet last summer that girl was head to toe with the Lion King.”


“Probably.” Louis spat out with renewed venom.  Uh-oh.


“What, did the Lion King go into bootlegging or something?  Louis turned  the radio on then back off.


“Have you ever been to Disney World?”




“I went there with a girl friend and her family.  They were a big Disney Family and had a time-share thing in one of the Disney resorts.  So, I went down there with them—and this was during the summer so it rained every afternoon.  You know those ponchos they sell?”


“The yellow ones with Mickey on the back.”


“Yeah, you go out when it’s sunny and when it starts to rain they get you for these hooded sheets of plastic that everyone’s walking around in.  So, me and Tess got caught in a downpour coming out of Captain Eo, bought ‘em, and went over to Magic Kingdom.”


“They don’t show Captain Eo anymore.”


“I heard.  So, we do Peter Pan and Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride.  She goes off to the bathroom and I got us a place in line for the Snow White ride.  Then, Tess comes back and hands me her shorts.”


“Her shorts?”


“The shorts she was wearing.  Rolled up with the underwear in the pocket.”




“So all she’s wearing now is her T-shirt, sandals, and the Mickey Mouse poncho.”  Most other guys telling a story with this kind of twist would be grinning, nodding and slapping the steering wheel.  Louis’ tone was more serious.  How could a theme park nymph story go wrong?




“Tess whispered to me that while on the ride she wanted to climax just as we passed the part at the end where the animatronic Price Charming kissed Snow White awake.”




“Finger-fucking…while sitting next to her.  Just. Go in under the poncho and nobody suspects.  It was a tall order but I figured I’d get it done.  We got in the two person mining cart that takes you around and I started in once we got inside.  She…shit, I was concentrating on the task at hand and she starts singing Someday My Prince Will Come.”


I laughed at that part.


“Then, she sang kind of a medley of Disney songs; Jungle Book, Pinocchio, Cinderella, Dalmatians.  Then, we’re about half way through and she starts mumbling about the characters.”


“What characters?”


“First, she named names, most of the dwarfs and the traditional characters.  Pooh.  She was working out a total fantasy thing.  I was doing my job ok and as we came up on the “waking kiss’ part she says something about Goofy then yells, ‘In a glass coffin!’ and bucks straight up.  Nearly lost my hand.


Within a few seconds we were outside again and just got off quietly.  We didn’t get caught but I have a theory about that.”


“This story has a theory?” it was too much.


“This story has observations, theories, and a moral.”


“Always wish upon a star?”  I couldn’t help it.


“I started thinking about Tess’ bed.  I never understood how she could sleep in it.  The whole pillow area was covered with stuffed animals.  Disney animals who had occupied her bed for years and all the time.  It put a new perspective on out whole sexual history.  Like, was I just there to enhance the Plush Character Experience?


Then, how many of the girls that I had dated had decades of Disney characters peppered through their bedroom? All of ‘em. How many females in general? All of ‘em.  Even my sister!”  That was the only time Louis ever mentioned anything about his family.


I gave immediate thought to those who I have known and ye cripes Louis mad a frightening amount of sense.  It wasn’t enough to send me into another sexual orientation or lead me to harassing eight-year-olds.  But, it throws suspicion on the motives of American females everywhere and has perverted yet another slice of culture. 


“Don’t trust anyone over thirty and keep an eye on anyone under twelve.”


That I (the Casual Swiss) did eventually get home and part ways with Louis is no big secret.  I am writing this in separate comfort from the road.  I usually throw three disks into the CD player, press random, and pound out portions of 1995 roughly three pages at a time.  But, I feel nothing like the introspective beatnik as he unravels himself and America onto the page, with a soft sadness for past companions of the road.


The low storm that is Louis is probably still out there loitering, vandalizing, and looking for love.  I, on the other hand, currently reside right outside of Orlando.  This city was built by Disney and is a Mecca for the plush doll crowd.  It’s soil and souvenir stores are like kryptonite to Louis and I feel safe from his band of craziness.


Still, although a city built on entertainment, packaging, merchandising, and talking animals may ward off the vibes of a genuine mad man…anyone exposed to Louis’ deeper thoughts will loose a little sleep over those sane people who come here in droves.  

Copyright©2000 The Casual Swiss