After reading various accounts in this newsgroup about how The Lion King
affected different people's lives I decided it is time to come forth with
my own story.

I first saw the movie in the summer of 1994 when it was premiering at the
theaters.  I went to see it a total of 19 times at the theater, not
counting the occasions when I sat through two showings by hiding in the
washroom between features.  I dragged every friend and family member that I
own and even a few strangers off the street to see the movie - but I can't
really talk about that here because of a pending lawsuit.

I bought the OMPS immediately after my first viewing of the movie and I
picked up ROTPL the first day it hit the shelves at my local record store.
For almost three months they were the only two disks that I ever put in my
CD player.  I used to hit the shuffle button on my CD and set a timer so
that I could wake up to a different song from TLK every morning.

I began humming tunes from the movie at work, much to the amusement of my
coworkers.  Pretty soon I started plastering TLK articles around my
workstation; a coffee cup here, a plushy there.  I bought a Simba necktie
to wear at the office.  My coworkers started to think that I was a little
weird but I just brushed them off with a laugh and a "hakuna matata".

Things took a bit of a turn for the worse one day when I came in to work
with the song IJCWtbK running through my head.  I began to sing it quietly
as I worked but pretty soon I was belting it out in my best soprano.  One
of my office buddies got a bit rude and asked me to keep it down because he
was trying to talk on the phone.  I began singing louder just to spite him.

The snivelling coward reported me to the boss who came over and asked me to
stop singing in the office.  I told him, "When the tune strikes, sometimes
you just have to sing."  He reprimanded me anyway and even went on to
comment on my apparent fascination with a "kids movie".  He went on to say
that he felt my TLK screen saver was a bit unprofessional and that he
didn't appreciate the little Simba stamps I put on the top of all my
reports.

I'm afraid I became a little defensive at this point and told him to go do
something, er, anatomically difficult.  Everybody in the office was
standing up looking over their partitions by this point.  My boss didn't
seem to like the attention and asked me if I would please accompany him to
his office.  I refused and announced loudly that if he had anything to say
to me that he might as well say it in front of the whole office.  At first
he hedged but he finally said that he'd been getting complaints about my
odd behavior from some of my coworkers and he really felt it would be for
the best if I would, you know, take some time off and maybe see a shrink.

I must have bumped my head or something at this point because I don't
remember the sequence of events that followed.  I am told that I lost it
and started shouting something about "The One True King" and how they would
all pay when the "Great Simba" returned from exile.  It seems I also did
something to the boss with one of my Lion King toys that required surgery.
Again, I don't remember ANY of this and I have only the word of the others
to go on.

They dropped the charges when my lawyer talked me into copping a plea of
insanity - but I'm NOT crazy!  Don't EVER call me crazy!

Fortunately I had some pretty good cash reserves saved up from years of
frugal living and I managed to pay off my legal bills and still keep my
house.  I estimated that I had enough cash reserves to meet my bills for
another four months, a comfortable enough margin for finding another job.
This time frame quickly dwindled when I started using my new found free
time to track down and buy more Lion King goodies.

I skipped a mortgage payment to offset the cost of the TLK leather jacket I
just HAD to have because they were disappearing from the shelves.  I
managed to get by for another month before I bought the animation cel.
Alas, that cleaned out the last of my cash reserves.  It was then that I
finally admitted that I had a problem.  I realized that I had bills and a
mortgage to pay, but I had no income, and I hadn't even tried to look for a
job.  I knew what I had to do.

The first thing I sold was the car.  I didn't get anywhere near what it was
worth but it would cover the payments for another four months if I was very
careful with my spending.  Three weeks later I sold the living room
furniture.  A few weeks later I was flat broke and out of household goods
to sell.  All I had was my house, my two credit cards and my Lion King
collection.  I'd considered selling off parts of the latter once or twice
but I generally stopped thinking about that when the dizzy spells hit.  I'd
usually add one or two items to it every day.

When I skipped the first mortgage payment the bank didn't say anything.  I
realized they couldn't call me because I'd had the phone disconnected weeks
before but I knew I was going to get a letter from them at some point
asking for an explanation.  By the time I'd skipped my third payment they'd
already cut off my hydro and gas.  Fortunately it was still early autumn
and I could keep myself warm enough by wrapping myself in my Lion King
comforter - the one that I used regularly that is.  I NEVER took any of the
other ones out of storage for fear of getting them soiled.

Finally that dreadful day came when I got the knock at the door.  I'd been
expecting it for some time but it still shook me when it happened.  I knew
who it was even before I peeked out through the curtains.  I spotted the
sheriffs car out on the street and crouched back out of sight again.  He
knocked a couple more times and peered in a couple of windows.  He shouted
out that he knew I was in the house and that I should come out and that
everything would be okay.  I finally couldn't take it any more and threw a
bottle of TLK shampoo through the window at him, showering him with broken
glass and special "no tears" formula.  I may have uttered a few dire
threats too because he buggered off like a hyena with Mufasa hot on his
tail!

I slunk off to the bedroom and began packing everything I could fit into my
pair of Lion King duffle bags.  I left enough room for my Simba and Nala
purring plushies and then packed whatever clothes I could fit around them.
I got packed just in time because as I was coming out of the bedroom I
heard more cars pulling up in front.  As I was opening the back window to 
crawl out I noticed Nala looking at me from one of my Lion King calendars.  
I couldn't read her expression but I felt I had to respond to the look.  I'd 
been talking to my calendars a lot in those days.

"Nala my love, I just want us to be together!"  I said.  "I have to leave
for awhile but I'll be back for you!"

I jumped the back fence and escaped down the alley.  That was the last time
I ever set foot in that house.

The next few weeks were pretty rough for me.  I had enough money on me to
stay at a youth hostel for awhile but eventually the money was gone, and
then shortly after so was I.  I guess I could have stayed at the YMCA but
pride got the better of me and I found myself a dry spot under one of the
local bridges to sleep instead.  It was the dead of winter by this point
but I had my Simba and Nala toys to keep me warm.  As long as I could keep
myself out of the wind I was okay.

By day I would sit on the street corner and beg for change.  It was a
struggle to bring myself to that at first but I found that after a few
drinks I could muster up the fortitude to start asking complete strangers
for money.  I gave the usual story about being down on my luck and needing
the money for food.  It was a lie of course.  As soon as I got enough
change I would scurry down to the local drugstore for a bottle of Lion King
bubble bath which I was snorting back at a rate of 2-3 bottles a day.

I became something of a living object lesson for parents who didn't want to
buy any Lion King merchandise for their kids.  It wasn't uncommon for a
mother to bring her tyke in tow to point at me and say, "You see why I won't
buy you the stuffed Simba?  Do you think I want you to end up like THAT?"

Sometimes kind children would toss the occasional coin my way if I would
let them squeeze my purring Nala or Simba toys.  Most of the time if the
parents of the kids were present they would pull their children away
protectively, often crossing to the other side of the street.  I tried not
to let it bother me but it really killed me inside when they did this.  I
think I'd have given up then but I couldn't bear the thought of my poor
cubs trying to get by without me.  I'd just hug them until they purred and
it would warm my heart and help me to carry on.

On the REALLY cold days it sounded a bit like Simba had a problem with his
adenoids, then one dreadful day he simply stopped purring altogether.  I'm
afraid his little air bladder may have got too cold and brittle and then
finally burst when I squeezed him too hard.  It was like a death in the
family.  I was shattered.  Sure, I still had Nala but I'd lost half my reason 
to live.  I crawled back to my stash of TLK bubble bath where I'd squirrelled
away a few half-empty bottles and began hitting the drink pretty hard.

A few hours later I realized that I just couldn't go on like this.  I had
reached the bottom and there were no handholds to pull myself up by.  I
finally understood that I really didn't WANT to go on.

In one sobering instant I realized that I wanted to die.

I had what I needed in my duffle bag.  Solemnly I pulled out my TLK shaving
kit and set it aside.  I knew that a quick swipe across the wrists would
end it quickly, and the world would be none the poorer for my passing.  I
had visions of myself standing, martyr-like on the edge of the bridge with
blood flowing from my wrists, Simba in one hand and Nala in the other until
I swooned from blood loss and the three of us plumetted slowly forward into
the river.  Sure, the river was frozen solid that time of year but I wasn't
thinking too clearly.  

I opened up the shaving kit and... did you know there are no damned BLADES in
that thing?  None!  Hell, it's not even real shaving cream!  I couldn't
believe it!  I was outraged!  I'd been had!  It was suddenly so clear to me
that none of this was my fault.  I'd been a victim of Disney marketing.
I'd been buying their merchandise in good faith and they'd been playing me 
for a dupe all along!  I felt very foolish sitting there with two stuffed
toys in my hands, a plastic razor at my feet and soap bubbles running down
my chin.

Suddenly knowing that none of it was my fault made life seem bearable
again.  I could stop blaming myself for my obsession.  I packed up all of
my worldly belongings, wiped my chin and walked up to the YMCA to try and get 
my life back together.

I won't go into the many details about my recovery but suffice to say I got
my old job back, rented a one bedroom flat and started getting my life into
order again.  I undertook therapy and I feel much better about myself and
about life.  I've even managed to start making friends again.

I am happy to say that I can now pass a display of Lion King articles for
sale without stopping.  Of course I usually reward my self restraint by
going back and buying what I managed to resist in the first place, but it's
a start!  You have to take your victories one at a time.

Anyway, that's my story.  And it's all true - well, partly.  A bit.

By David Braun <simba@magic.mb.ca>