In the last few months, Amanda Bynes' personal narrative has been on full display all over the Web. She's called people ugly, been continuously weird in public and, most recently, lit a fire in someone's driveway and almost lit her dog up too. These days, we don't see many epic adventure stories or grand tales of hubris, but it seems undeniable that Bynes has given us one of the most strangely-spun tales in recent memory. It's been a modern fairytale, albeit darker than we might expect (one, perhaps, that the macabre Brothers Grimm would appreciate), but a fairytale none the less, full of morality, insanity, feuds, and fire. So here it is, the Amanda Bynes fairytale. Read it, understand it, learn from it, and maybe someday tell it to your children.
Once upon a time, there was a beautiful girl. Even as a child, her looks and charm would invite people to flock from all around the world to see her perform. Her name was Amanda and she had a talent for telling stories that made the people laugh. And they loved her for it. As time passed, she grew into a lovely young woman, who continued to make the public laugh, and they rejoiced! For child stars rarely grew up gracefully — they often had trouble with drugs and money management.
But not all would remain peaceful in lovely Los Angeles, for Amanda would leave, and encounter much hardship on her journey. But, in the meantime, she continued to please the public, starring in Hairspray, Sydney White, and most importantly, She's the Man. There was hope for the future and, every year, her subjects would eagerly await her newest project, expecting the best but still accepting slapstick-y mediocrity sometimes. (What A Girl Wants, anyone?)
Sadly, the idyllic life was not to last. A dark force was gathering over the world of celebrity, and it carried with it a spell that motivated one to constantly share updates, a fateful addiction that plagued many of under its grasp. The spell was named Twitter, and before long, Amanda fell victim. Soon, she was sucked into the iniquitous enchantments of the Twitterverse, eventually eschewing all other forms of communication with the outside world. As she grew more and more isolated, the Twitter spell grinned evilly in its cyber lair, whispering terrible nothings in her ear about where Ciroc bottles should go, and how seriously chic wigs were.
Bit by bit, Amanda changed into something else: a creature of the shadows, which is exactly what Twitter wanted. It wanted its minions sitting in front of their screens screaming with delight at Amanda's insane transformation. Falling more and more, she began to focus on only on the physical (mirror, mirror...), becoming obsessed with her face, even calling her beautiful prince Drake "ugly," and pushing away anyone who could help her. Her friends tried to help, defending her and going to see her, but nothing could overpower the enticements of Twitter and negligent plastic surgeons. So slowly, they all fell away, leaving only her noble Pomeranian to fight the good fight for Amanda.
But even her loyal dog would be put to the ultimate test, trial by fire. The sweet, funny Amanda of yesteryear was buried too deep under Twitter's enchantments, and, as Twitter minced to itself, "What the public wants, the public shall get!" So she grew more and more troubled as the people looked on, also bewitched by Twitter's cruel hold on Amanda's sanity. She made solitary trips to casinos and jacuzzis, spreading far and wide the sad news of her fall into madness.
Eventually, overrun by dark thoughts and terrible loneliness, Amanda took to the streets, bringing her faithful Pom to make a fire, in hopes of burning out this insatiable need to overshare, this torturous delusion of grandeur that ended the moment she looked away from the computer screen. She was hopelessly lost, in a world run by her closest friend and deadliest foe, the ghastly Twitter.
But there was a small light in the darkness — one that sprung heroically into action as Amanda built her campfire pyre. It was called a 5150 hold, created by the forces of good to help those who could not help themselves. The 5150 could only be called into action in moments of greatest need, but as the gas-fueled flames of Amanda's fire licked the dark sky, Amanda's deep need for psychological assistance rang clearly through the universe (plus, telephones lines to the police), and the 5150 answered the call.
Twitter shrieked, a deep grumbling "NOOOOOOOO," storming around the deep cavern it called home and punching Satan in the face to cool off. But nothing could be done — the forces of good had claimed Amanda, and the only thing for Twitter to do was wait. As Amanda slept, protected, in the embrace of the 5150, she heard the disembodied robotic voice of Twitter, crooning through her dark and disturbing dreams, "They can only hold you for so long my dear. Soon you will return to me. Soon." She rolled over, crying out in her sleep, but no one could know what the future would hold — not Amanda, not Twitter, nor any other being.
How does this fairytale end? We can't be sure quite yet, for the forces of good and evil continue to battle for ownership of Amanda Bynes. All we can do is wait faithfully, support her in times of need, and pray that whatever darkness that holds her enthralled will soon cease, returning the Amanda Bynes we know and love to us in easy-to-watch comedies and reruns on TBS.