Ducky Park
"No thanks," You tell him, "I'll just keep sweeping."
"Alright," He replies with a shrug. "Enjoy." He turns around and walks away, leaving you to sweeping up bits of trash from the blacktop.
You look around and find a ripped up ticket stub and a discarded dirty napkin. The broom pushes them into the pan and you move on in search of more trash. You are the master of the broom, and no garbage is safe from your sweeper. It isn't long before all trash cowers in fear at your approach.
After a few hours of intense labor you feel the pangs of hunger assaulting your stomach once more. You spot a french fry on the ground and resist the temptation. What was it that Rick fellow told you? You eat for free, right?
Letting your broom fall to the ground with a clang, you walk away in search of a food stand. It isn't long before you come to the hotdog and chili-cheese fry stand, undoubtedly the source of the stray fries you've been finding all over the ground.
You look on at the long line in dismay at first before you remember the rule Happy Duck told you about back at the park entrance: Lines don't exist for employees.
You step past the masses and cut to the head of the line. The young woman behind the counter looks at you in shock. "Hi," You say, "I'd like a chili-cheese fry and a super jumbo hot dog."
"Uh..." She says, "There's a line."
"Yeah," You say, glancing behind you quickly. "There sure is."
"You have to wait in line," She tells you.
"No I don't" You reply, "I work here."
"You still have to wait in line," She says.
"No, no. I don't think you understood me," You say. She must be slow, you think. "I work here."
"Hey!" One of the customers calls from behind you. You turn around to see a fat man in a happy duck hat with his gut hanging out of the bottom of his stained T-shirt. "Get in line!" He says.
You blow him off and redirect your attention to the lady behind the counter. "Anyway, can you get those fries and that jumbo dog ready for me?"
"No," She says. "I can't."
"What do you mean, you can't? The stuff is all behind you. Just give me some fries and a hot dog so you can start taking care of these customers."
"I'm sorry," She explains, "I cannot do that. You have to wait in line."
You are about to protest further when you feel a tap on your shoulder. George stands behind you, sweat glistening on his fat face. He does not look pleased. "You're out of here," He says to you, visibly struggling to contain his rage.
You stare blankly back at him, unsure of exactly what he meant by his words. He stares back at you with an anger which causes him to tremble and jiggles the fat in his neck as he shakes.
"Get the hell out of here, boy. You don't have a damn job no more." He points in the general direction of the exit the whole time he speaks.
"I was just trying to eat," You protest.
"Go now," he says, "Or I will be forced to contact security."
"Man," You say, taking the Happy Duck hat from your head, "I don't fucking get this place! I can't eat spare food from the ground and I can't eat food from the stand! This is bullshit!"
You throw your hat at George's feet and face the customers. "They grind up kittens to make the hotdogs, you know?"
You stomp off in the direction of the gates while George gets on his walkie talkie behind you and orders a security escort. You are through the gate before they can reach you, tough, and you head away in a foot stomping fury.
Your walk home takes hours and your feet are sore by the time you reach the porch. Your father is waiting inside. "How was work?" He asks.
"I got fired," You tell him.
"You what?!"
"I got fired. They're a bunch of assholes," You reply.
"Boy..." He says, taking his belt off.
He beats you until your ass starts to bleed and then he beats you some more. You can't sit down for weeks. But what did he expect from you? You're obviously not cut out for a job in an amusement park, but he forced you into it and now it’s somehow your fault that it didn't work out.
Your ass is bruised for nearly a month and you have Ducky Park to thank for it. You can't shake that from your head, all your problems and anguishes from here on can be linked directly to that sinister place.
Your life is a mess and you have Ducky Park to thank.
"Alright," He replies with a shrug. "Enjoy." He turns around and walks away, leaving you to sweeping up bits of trash from the blacktop.
You look around and find a ripped up ticket stub and a discarded dirty napkin. The broom pushes them into the pan and you move on in search of more trash. You are the master of the broom, and no garbage is safe from your sweeper. It isn't long before all trash cowers in fear at your approach.
After a few hours of intense labor you feel the pangs of hunger assaulting your stomach once more. You spot a french fry on the ground and resist the temptation. What was it that Rick fellow told you? You eat for free, right?
Letting your broom fall to the ground with a clang, you walk away in search of a food stand. It isn't long before you come to the hotdog and chili-cheese fry stand, undoubtedly the source of the stray fries you've been finding all over the ground.
You look on at the long line in dismay at first before you remember the rule Happy Duck told you about back at the park entrance: Lines don't exist for employees.
You step past the masses and cut to the head of the line. The young woman behind the counter looks at you in shock. "Hi," You say, "I'd like a chili-cheese fry and a super jumbo hot dog."
"Uh..." She says, "There's a line."
"Yeah," You say, glancing behind you quickly. "There sure is."
"You have to wait in line," She tells you.
"No I don't" You reply, "I work here."
"You still have to wait in line," She says.
"No, no. I don't think you understood me," You say. She must be slow, you think. "I work here."
"Hey!" One of the customers calls from behind you. You turn around to see a fat man in a happy duck hat with his gut hanging out of the bottom of his stained T-shirt. "Get in line!" He says.
You blow him off and redirect your attention to the lady behind the counter. "Anyway, can you get those fries and that jumbo dog ready for me?"
"No," She says. "I can't."
"What do you mean, you can't? The stuff is all behind you. Just give me some fries and a hot dog so you can start taking care of these customers."
"I'm sorry," She explains, "I cannot do that. You have to wait in line."
You are about to protest further when you feel a tap on your shoulder. George stands behind you, sweat glistening on his fat face. He does not look pleased. "You're out of here," He says to you, visibly struggling to contain his rage.
You stare blankly back at him, unsure of exactly what he meant by his words. He stares back at you with an anger which causes him to tremble and jiggles the fat in his neck as he shakes.
"Get the hell out of here, boy. You don't have a damn job no more." He points in the general direction of the exit the whole time he speaks.
"I was just trying to eat," You protest.
"Go now," he says, "Or I will be forced to contact security."
"Man," You say, taking the Happy Duck hat from your head, "I don't fucking get this place! I can't eat spare food from the ground and I can't eat food from the stand! This is bullshit!"
You throw your hat at George's feet and face the customers. "They grind up kittens to make the hotdogs, you know?"
You stomp off in the direction of the gates while George gets on his walkie talkie behind you and orders a security escort. You are through the gate before they can reach you, tough, and you head away in a foot stomping fury.
Your walk home takes hours and your feet are sore by the time you reach the porch. Your father is waiting inside. "How was work?" He asks.
"I got fired," You tell him.
"You what?!"
"I got fired. They're a bunch of assholes," You reply.
"Boy..." He says, taking his belt off.
He beats you until your ass starts to bleed and then he beats you some more. You can't sit down for weeks. But what did he expect from you? You're obviously not cut out for a job in an amusement park, but he forced you into it and now it’s somehow your fault that it didn't work out.
Your ass is bruised for nearly a month and you have Ducky Park to thank for it. You can't shake that from your head, all your problems and anguishes from here on can be linked directly to that sinister place.
Your life is a mess and you have Ducky Park to thank.
