Microfiction: Rat

This is what I’ve seen: drunk men fighting; women screaming; children laughing; food being thrown; blood; food being eaten (to excess); laughter; sunshine; more food; more blood; sainthood; devil spawn; bitch-slapping; crowds, my god the crowds; the constant buzz of anticipitation; the tacky gloom of disappointment; and the all-ness of the everything inbetween. This was the never ending stream of humanity having the best time of their lives at the happiest place on earth.

“Hey Carl. Busy day today, huh?” asked a duck. He was naked from the waist down.

“Yeah, wipe-out,” Carl mumbled, trying to avoid eye-contact.

Stewart, the aforementioned duck, removed the top half of his costume, stamping his own pungent, meaty musk on the locker room. Most employees wear underwear beneath their costumes. Carl himself wore two layers to insulate himself against the costume’s fuzzy interior. They don’t call it a sweat magnet for nothing, and Carl was not the first to wear The Rat.

“I think you dropped your towel, ” said Carl, pointing to the forgotten towel beside Stewart.

“Oh, thanks”, he said, picking up his towel, letting it flop over his shoulder. “Listen, some of the guys are going out for drinks tonight. Interested? There are going to be girls there. Girls drinking alcohol, if you know what I mean? Wink-wink. And some guys as well. No judgement.”

“I’ve… another shift,” said Carl. “Special Events,” he added, letting the words firmly shut the door on this conversation. Carl slipped on the costume’s head – an act made easy from years of practice – and pulled on buckles to tighten its intracate fixtures.

“Hmmm. We’ll be there a while, so if you finish early then come by. Promise me, okay?”

“Oh boy! That sounds swell,” said Mickey Mouse.

“I’m not giving up on your Carl. You’ll come out with us yet,” he said, shooting a cheeky grin before taking his naked, sweaty body to some other part of the locker room.

Mickey slapped his arse on the way past. “See ya real soon!”

“Promise me, okay?”

Mickey gave the double thumbs-up, and headed out into the floodlit Los Angeles night. He wasn’t the only one who did Special Events. Daffy was already working, Minnie too. They were the special ones who entertained special guests: pale, gossamer children that only come at night to have the best time of their… lives at the happiest place on earth.

 

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