Our family movie this weekend was Ratatouille, a movie I was totally prepared to love, being a major fan of Pixar. Unfortunately, I was so skeeved out by the sight of a rat crawling around on a kitchen counter and picking up some bread -- which it later put back down for a human to pick up and eat -- and a horde of rats falling through a ceiling into a person's living room, I couldn't enjoy the movie, what with the little bit of vomit that kept coming up in my mouth.
Yes, I know it was just computer animation. And I even know that the entire ironic theme of the movie was that this rat -- a dirty, flea-ridden, disease-carrying verminous creature -- wanted to be a chef in a five-star restaurant and had an actual talent for creating wonderful food. My impressionable head was filled full of Templeton at an early age and I'm sorry, but I just can't get over it. E.B. White trumps Pixar, which is as it should be.
The only thing that could possibly made things worse would have been for the rat to have had a cockroach as his sous chef.
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