The Country Mice

We shuffled off to Buffalo late Saturday for a little cross-border shopping. With only three months to go in this part of the world we have to cram in as many cultural experiences as possible.

Thus the opportunity to zone out in front of the tube.

This particular show portrayed a weirdly Tron-like world, with tragic heroes transporting back and forth from Planet Earth to someplace Far Far Away.

The beautiful but sober heroine, struggling to divert the group from its foolish and impulsive intentions.

Oh no! The Really Bad Guy has come back. He’s pure nasty, evilly humoured, psychopathic, sociopathic, rotten to the core.

He’s… he’s… what?! The Really Bad Guy is Rocky?!

But Rocky is a good guy. The underdog. I even bought the LP and let it alternately invigorate and soothe me all through exams in Grade 12.

Sly. I’m hurt.

And so this Sly’s body form — or at least the metallic creature controlled by all of Sly’s badness.

All those young space travellers look up in horror and defeat.

Who will save us now?

Ricardo Montalbàn???

Ricardo is grandfather of the little guy in the yellow suit.

Grandpa! the little guy says. If you try to save us you’ll never walk again!

For you, my little one, it will be worth the sacrifice.

Look at this poor girl.

Her parents have supported her dramatic dreams, chauffeured her to classes and auditions, encouraged her belief that hard work will help her become a famous and respected actor.

Famous is one thing.

Ending up on cheesy shows is, well, another way to make some pretty good coin.

The End.