THE IMITATOR
In every civilization, every time period, and every class of people there are legends and heroes. For every legend and hero there is an unsung hero and an untold story. But everyday these unsung heroes give themselves to us, to make us happy. Most people think that a hero has to be someone who wears tights and flies around at night, saving people from clown-like villains, but a hero is something more. A hero is someone who saves us from ourselves and makes us happy. In our time and our world there is an unsung hero who needs to be noted. He is talented but gives his talent for us to remember. He makes us remember the times when we were all together, and when we were happy. He travels around the world becoming another person at each stop, he is never the same, and he is never him. No one even knows his name, or if he even has one. But he is a miracle, and we call this miracle The Imitator. One week he is Elvis, the next Johnny Cash, the next Walt Disney, the next Bruce Lee. He becomes living stars, deceased stars, and even fictional characters. But he doesn't do imitations, he becomes the person. It's as if he absorbs there being, and shows a glimpse of that person. The purpose of project Imitator, is to gather all of the known stories of this bizarre man and group them together, so we can show the world the kindness of the Imitator. If you have any stories of the Imitator, please post them.
The following is the story of the Imitator and the Walt Disney experience.
My name is Christopher Young. As of 2000, I'm officially twenty-nine.
But I want to tell you my story. A story of when I was eleven old. I grew up in
a rough house, it was hard to survive. My house was a hell house. My parents
were into drugs, sex, and my father beat me. It was a miserable time. At the age of eleven my parents would leave so
they could go out and light up with their friends, and I would wonder around
the neighborhood restlessly. I was so lonely, so sad, so hurt. I did it to get
away from that house, and to defy my parents. They would have never allowed me
to leave the house, they would have much rather beat me. It was a dangerous
thing to die, but I did it anyway. I
remember it was on my eleventh birthday, they went out. I was so sad. I had got
nothing. Not even a happy birthday. My parents went off to their friends'
houses. As I typically did, I snuck out of the house. I walked around the
neighborhood. There was a little diner right on the side of the road, less than
a mile away. The owner always fed me, even though I didn't have any money. But
when his wife was there, I got nothing. But something told me to go there that day.
I knew she would be there, but I had to see something, I didn't know what it
was though. I walked to the diner, I opened the door, and I stepped inside. I
looked at all the people. I felt as if there was something I was supposed to
find in here. And suddenly I saw a man looking at me. He was kind of plump, he
was dressed in a suit, and had a moustache. He looked somewhat familiar, but I
couldn't place my finger on where I had seen him. He stared at me for a little
while, and I stared at him. Then he signaled me over. I walked over to the
man's table. "Grab a seat young man." The man said.
"I ain't supposed to sit with strangers." I responded.
"Well hi, my name's Walter." He said as he shook my hand.
"My name's Charlie," I said as I shook his hand.
"Now we know each other, so now can you sit?" And I sat down. And we
began to talk. He asked me about why I was there, and I don't know why, but I
told him my story. He bought me a
hamburger and a milkshake and he sat there and listened to me. It was the first
time anyone had ever listened to me. I liked it. Then he asked me what I wanted
to be when I grew up.
"When I grow up, I'm gonna be an artist, or at least I hope so. I like
drawing pictures."
"Really? I've had some experience in that myself."
"Really?"
"Yeah, maybe I should tell you my full name. Walter Disney."
"No. Do you mean you're the one who makes those cartoons?" then he gave
off a high pitched uh-hu, and I was sure. This was the guy that gave us Mickey
Mouse. "You are." And then in a gruff voice just like that of one of the
nations most beloved ducks he assured me he was. And I began to laugh. Then he
broke into all of the Disney characters he had gave life too, and I went
hysterical with laughter. I've never laughed so hard in my life.
"See, I told you who I was."
And we continued our meal. We were finished with our meal, and he offered to
give me a quick ride home. I agreed and he drove me home. Before I got out of
the car, he stopped me for a moment. "Listen Charlie, I've got something I want
to say." And I listened as he spoke. "Listen Charlie, I want to tell you
something. Keep drawing, be the best kid you can be, the best artist, the best
everything. Just imagine and wish that you'll make it. Because when you make a
wish, anything can happen." And I stepped out of the car, I could hear as he
drove away. I went into the house and closed the door behind me. I asked my mom
later about Walt Disney and she told me he was dead. Why that man wanted to be
Walt Disney, I have no idea. But I think he was waiting there for me.
I never snuck out of my house again. I
spent all of my time drawing. A few years later, my father overdosed on drugs.
After that my mother straightened out, and hasn't touched a drug since. I love
my mom dearly, and I'm truly glad to have her. I've forgiven her for all of her
mistakes, and I cherish every moment with her. I'm a professional artist for Disney Pictures. And before I die, I just
wish I could thank that great man. And I would like to say something to all of
you: Anything is possible, when you wish upon a star.
THE
REAPER