Attention Newly Laid-Off Jack Sparrows of Disneyland: I’ve Got a Job for You

So I read here that all of the poor, dejected massively sex-irific Jack Sparrows have been laid off from Disneyland. Now, I understand in this horrific economy we all have to make sacrifices but this isn’t even the work of recessionistas. This is due almost entirely to underage girls flashing their underage boobs at these of age Disney sex gods. No one should be punished for their bone-ability. Gentleman, I’ve got a new role for you to play in my dorm on the South Quad.

Since you poor fellas have been stuck looking at A cups, I’m offering you a full-time job cupping my C’s. (For two of you, you will just be reprising earlier roles ;). It’s not fair that studs such as yourselves fell victim to your own bone-ability. So I offer you a rotating residence in my dorm, and therefore my vagina, with FULL access to my Demon meal plan as well as any blocks of cheese you may find in my mini-fridge. This all for the low, low price of putting your P’s in my V at all hours of the week. You can also follow me on Twitter.

Why, Maddie you ask, are you willing to offer so much high-quality Demon plan food along with all access passes to the Internet and your vag? Simple. If you’re a prince with the Disney® stamped somewhere on your fine ass, you’re in. And I can guarantee you, I am no Whopper Virgin.

If you’ve got chin braids, I’ve got sopping panties. There’s nothing hotter than eyeliner on someone who’s not an Emo Pete Wentz wannabe, and I want your red bandana tied somewhere on me (be it wrists or a mouth-gag, I’m fairly ambivalent.)

So this being said, here’s an open call to the other Disney® princes, especially Prince Eric: I want you inside me. Under the sea and down on me.  Aladdin, take me to a whole new world of particularly guilty childlike sex. John Smith, I’d like to show you the colors of the wind during various stages of my clitoral stimulation. Beast, if you’re anything like a hockey player, and I think you are, I want you to be my labial guest. Put my service to the test. And Prince Charming, I’m not buying one piece of the shit that you’re throwing down, but I’d still like to go down on you. (And don’t worry, the clock ain’t striking at 12; I don’t have psych till 2 p.m.)

So, newly laid-off Disney princes: please lay me. My legs are very 7-11, always open. And I look forward to giving you your new positions, one of which is my legs (both!) behind my head. Because if there’s one thing I’m interested in, it’s fulfilling the destinies that Walter Elias Disney had in mind while creating these fanciful, broad-chested personas. And if there’s one thing I’d like to do with my life, it’s definitely to fellate the brainchildren of Walter Elias Disney. This means you, Steamboat Willie.