A kid imagines an amusement park run by colorful talking animals. They ride the rides 'n' shit, I guess. Someone learns a lesson probably? This used to be the sort of story you'd placidly tune out on your daily drive to daycare after five seconds of high-pitched yammering from your bedwetting crotchfruit in the backseat. But in 2019 insanely rich morons routinely pay $100 mil to overwork a small army of hunchbacked animators in the hopes it'll become the new Hotel Transylvania or something.