I work at an amusement park where only half of the actors are actual actors. After I mainly talked about my suspicions regarding my manager in my previous post, I finally want to introduce the two other pretenders that roam the theme park. I also want to mention that I have some rather interesting news up ahead, but first things first.
The Hollywood section of the amusement park I work at is, and I’m going to be frank here, the one I care for the least. Its rollercoasters are rather standard and tame and there’s nothing special to me about its design. It looks like something out of a movie, sure, but not the type of movie I’d watch. Everything in there is shiny and glammed up. I can’t deny it all looks very pretty, but it just doesn’t catch my eye as much as the horror or wild west section do.
I will begin with the pretender from the Hollywood section I first came into contact with: the Aged Diva.
She’s a tall, slender older woman dressed in one of these sparkling dresses out of the fifties or sixties from the looks of it. She wears black silk gloves and is always holding one of these long, slim cigarettes.
She is the most articulate out of all the pretenders since she can actually talk in full sentences. The problem is that the only times she makes use of this ability are when she is thanking people for getting complimented. When she does talk, she repeats herself a lot and her words sound like they were recorded prior to the conversation, if that makes sense.
Flattery matters a lot to her. She reacts very friendly when praised, however when she is being insulted in any way, things can get… interesting. I’ve seen it happen a few times. Personally, I think she gets offended way too easily, but of course I would never say that to her face. Hell, even I’ve managed to accidentally trigger her a couple times. Let me give you an example.
I was just strolling around her part of the park during breaktime. I had changed into my daily wear and just bought myself some ice cream when I noticed her standing nearby. I was not in my costume so I wasn’t sure she’d recognize me as a park employee, but I thought I’d try and talk to her anyways since I had not gotten much opportunity to do so up to that point.
I had already met her assigned actor Oliver, an enthusiastic, friendly guy who had told me all about the Aged Diva. That she could actually talk but only really reacted to compliments and so on. Obviously, I wasn’t going to pass up this chance to get to know her, so I walked up to her.
Smiling politely, I greeted her. “Um… hello! It’s very nice to finally meet you, I’m…” I began, but she cut me off.
“Oh thank you, dear! Would you like to take a picture with me?” She was beaming at me.
I shook my head. “No, actually, I’m an…” My voice trailed off the second I realized I probably should not have said no.
The corners of her mouth began to droop first. Then the skin of her cheeks slowly began to sink to her chin. Her lower eyelids began to flow down and the white of her eyes soon followed after. It was like Oliver had told me… her face was melting off. I felt like gagging.
I stood in front of her with raised hands, unsure of what to do. Looking around frantically, I found that to my great relief none of the visitors were watching. Redirecting my attention to the Aged Diva, I noticed that by now, her scalp had molten off as well and I could actually see the white of her skull. I rose to my tiptoes, trying to obscure the sight from any passing guests. I knew it wouldn’t be long now.
Finally, her head was looking like a shapeless wad of wax by then, she reached the, as Oliver had called it, last stage. I don’t know how else to say this, but she… exploded. There was a sharp sound not unlike a balloon being popped, and suddenly, all that was left of her were a few sparkles in the air. Oliver was really angry with me about it.
This does not happen as often as one would expect. Sometimes there are some bad-mannered kids running around where she’s at and trigger her by shouting insults or just not being polite in general, but I can count down the amount of times that happened on one hand. On the few occasions that it did occur, the visitors seemed to think it was some sort of magic trick. At least that’s what I believe since I don’t think anyone ever made a big deal of it. She dematerializes and reappears in random locations all throughout the Hollywood section.
She seems to have forgotten all about my little mishap by now, which is a good thing considering I viewed her as my only potential source of information for a long time. However when I finally got around to talking to her again, she proved to be pretty much useless.
It was a cloudy, muggy day and the ashen sky threatened an oncoming storm. There were very little visitors in the park that day and, since I was on my break and Oliver was busy, I snuck over to the Hollywood section to see the diva. I found her sitting at a table in a deserted café near the main plaza. I took a deep breath, mentally preparing myself. I had thought it all out and decided she might be able to talk normally to me if I’d sprinkle in small compliments all throughout our conversation. In hindsight, that idea was simply stupid.
I walked up to her and greeted her with a wide smile. “Hello, ma’am, it’s so nice to see you! You’re looking absolutely splendid today!”
She looked up to me, returning my broad grin. “Oh my!” she said in that high-pitched, hoarse voice of hers. “What a lovely thing to say! Here, won’t you sit with me?” She pointed at the chair across from her.
I nodded eagerly and took a seat. “Thank you very much, you’re too kind! So, ma’am, I have been wanting to ask you some questions I believe only you are able to answer.”
The elderly lady perked up. “You don’t say. Well, ask away then. What can I help you with, dear?”
“Where does a beauty like you come from?” I felt utterly ridiculous.
“Ah, sweetheart, I was born here. I’ve been here all my life.” She sighed dramatically. “I was predestined for Hollywood life, it seems.”
“I do think you were,” I replied. “Now, I hope I’m not stealing any of your precious time, but would you mind telling me where the others are from then?”
“What others, dearie?”
“Well, the ones that are… like you.”
“What others, dearie?” she repeated in the exact same tone and cadence as before. It was eerie.
“Like, the… uh… the ballerina? And Mr Scratch, the stagecoach and the cowboy who’s always laughing?”
Her expression darkened. “The cowboy? That ugly, misshapen brat?”
I felt tempted to tell her she was not the prettiest herself, but refrained from doing so. “Yes, that one. Know anything about him or the others?”
“What others, dearie?”
I sighed. “The ballerina, Mr Scratch, the stagecoach, the cowboy and so on,” I told her.
“The cowboy? That ugly, misshapen brat?”
It was useless. I thanked her, got up and left.
I have come to the conclusion that I will probably not be getting any answers from the pretenders themselves. But I won’t stop trying.
The other pretender from the Hollywood section is a bit more strange than the Diva, although he looks just as inconspicuous at first glance. We simply call him The Pianist.
The Hollywood part of the theme park is home to a lot of restaurants, ice cream parlors and the like. That’s because it is closest to the entrance of the park itself, meaning that no matter which section the visitors go for first, they will pass tons of little establishments emanating the alluring scents of food and candy.
In one of the largest, prettiest restaurants, there’s a small stage with a piano on it. And that’s where he sits, all day, everyday. He reminds me a lot of the Sugar Plum Fairy since he never does anything else but play that piano. However he is a little more extreme about it.
The Pianist cannot be locked away at night. In fact, he cannot be moved from the stool he’s sitting on at all. He looks to be middle-aged and wears a white tuxedo. He’s always smiling and usually never even looks up from the keys of his instrument. There is a tip jar on the piano though and whenever one of the visitors throws a coin into it, he looks up at them, smiles and thanks them.
The Pianist is definitely one of the more mysterious pretenders. He might seem harmless, but he’s more of a threat than he’s letting on.
His assigned actress is Caroline. She’s sweet, but I’m not as close to her as most of my other co-workers like Maxine, Anne or Darius. Her costume resembles the outfit of Audrey Hepburn in Breakfast at Tiffany’s. While one might think she wouldn’t have a lot of work with her not-actor since he doesn’t need to be locked up or closely observed, she does have one very important task.
Every day at three pm, Caroline has to go up to him and ask him if he needs anything, to which he will always respond with the same words.
“No thank you, dear.”
For a long time, I didn’t understand what was so pressing about this matter. It was not until I had the chance to have a longer conversation with Caroline in the same restaurant that I got an idea of why she took her responsibility to do this seemingly futile chore so seriously.
“It’s not about if him actually needing anything,” she explained to me. “It’s all about the question itself. When I started working here, Dale stressed that I could never be late with it. Everytime someone fails to ask him, somebody in the park dies.”
I remember perking up. “For real?”
She nodded, a stern look on her face. “That’s what Dale says at least. But I’m not going to take any chances. Especially since he told me what happened the last time someone didn’t ask him in time.” She leaned across the table we were sitting at and added in a lower tone, “The guy before me forgot one day. He was five minutes late, but that was already enough. During these five minutes, a man had suffered a heart attack riding one of our rollercoasters. Of course, the actor was fired.”
I frowned. “Couldn’t it have been a coincidence?”
“No way. It’s happened twice before that too, you know. It was always during the time in which the assigned actor of the piano player failed to show up, and it was always a heart attack. I think the first time was a lady on the ferris wheel. Does that sound like a coincidence to you? No healthy person will just get a heart attack all of a sudden, let alone on something as harmless as the ferris wheel.”
I had to admit it made sense. Looking over at the Pianist who was sitting on his stage and playing as always, I got a weird sinking feeling in my stomach. He suddenly seemed a lot less innocent than before.
I mentioned that I had something interesting to tell you before and I think now is the time to do so. Ever since my conversation with Dale yesterday, I’ve been thinking about how he was protecting his precious notebook from my curious eyes. There had to be something important in there, something he didn’t want me to see. With the way he was avoiding my questions, it simply had to be of significance. When I went to the park today, I had already made up my mind. I was going to try and get my hands on that book.
Dale has his office in a small building near the main entrance of the amusement park, right where the tickets can be bought. He usually does not spend all day in there though, I often see him wandering about outside. It appears he has not dropped this habit of his, even now that the park is shut down and completely deserted.
After I had arrived, it must have been around twelve am, I went to follow my normal routine of feeding and playing with Mr Scratch. The sock puppet was rather happy to see me. I guess he’s been growing pretty bored lately with no visitors around. I took him for a long walk during which I kept an eye out for any not-actors or shady managers.
I actually did spot the nurse standing in front of one of the funhouses, staring into nothingness as always. I wondered if Darius was coming in at all these days. A bit later we came across the Stagecoach. Nathan was sitting in his coach seat holding the horses’ reins like he would on any other day. I waved at him and he nodded back to me wordlessly. I watched as the carriage rolled past me. Afterwards, I took Mr Scratch back to his cage before making my way over to Dale’s office.
Of course I had to pass through the Hollywood section to reach it. It was spooky being all alone in there. While I looked for my manager, I couldn’t find him anywhere, meaning that if he was in the park at all, he was nowhere nearby.
The building Dale’s office is in is more of a polished shed. It’s even smaller than our breakroom and has only one window. I tried the door first only to find it locked, which was not too surprising but disappointing nonetheless. I then rounded the corner to peer in through the window. It was shut and could not be opened from outside, but I could see Dale’s desk in the middle of the room as well as a large closet and a file cabinet.
I realized that I had not thought this through. I had no means of getting in there. I was just about to leave so I turned around, but let out a scream as I collided with someone who had been standing right behind me. Half expecting it to be my manager, I instantly backed away, only to realize that it wasn’t Dale I had bumped into.
The Laughing Cowboy was looking down at me with a knowing black-teethed smirk.
“It’s you,” I gasped. “Oh snap… you really scared me. Did you have to sneak up on me like that?”
His harelipped grin stretched all the way up to his ears as he tilted his head sideways. Slightly unsettled, I attempted to return a smile, only for him to start chuckling. Black, thick saliva dripped from the corner of his mouth.
“What are you doing here at all?” I inquired. “Are you bored or something?”
The cowboy’s chuckling grew fainter as he slowly shook his head.
“Why are you all the way out here? I thought you didn’t like Hollywood…” my voice trailed off. “Did you follow me here?”
He nodded, beginning to snicker quietly once again. Before I could say anything else, he raised his hand and pointed at Dale’s shed, raising a brow. Suddenly feeling like I had to explain myself, I fumbled for words. “Okay, I know this looks weird, but there’s something in Dale’s office… I mean, I don’t know if it’s in there… but he has, like, this notebook that I want to have a look at. I swear, I didn’t want to break anything… uh…”
The cowboy raised his hand and I fell quiet. He looked as if he was trying to tell me to stay where I was. He then turned around and ran off. I thought about following him, but eventually remained in place. I waited for about ten minutes before I could hear hurried footsteps echo through the empty streets again.
The cowboy was sprinting towards me, keeping his hat in place with one hand while holding something in the other. As he got closer, I recognized it to be the notebook. He was cackling loudly. Instead of coming to a halt in front of me, he let go of his hat and grabbed me by the wrist, pulling me along with him.
“I take it we’re running from Dale?” I panted as I hurried to keep up with him. He was surprisingly fast. Of course, I received no reply except for a short nod.
We hid away in a side street by the plaza between two gift shops. The cowboy handed me the notebook and gestured for me to hurry. I nodded and frantically began flicking through its pages. In hindsight, I should have probably taken some pictures of the notebook’s content with my smartphone, but in the heat of the moment, logic apparently escaped me.
Most of the pages held either numbers which I failed to interpret but assume to be of financial meaning. However there was a set of pages that struck me as off. There was a piece of paper glued to one of them which seemed to be a photocopy of some very old piece of writing. I didn’t have enough time to study it, but the handwritten lines on the following pages were strange enough in themselves.
I cannot remember them in exact detail, mainly because the phrases were more of a jumbled mess of words than anything else. One sentence however kept reappearing throughout and burned itself into my memory.
“We who now claim ownership of this land are aware of and willing to pay the price.”
It was little later that I could hear quick, heavy footsteps approaching.
“Come back here, you asshole!” Dale’s familiar voice came from somewhere out on the plaza. “This crap really isn’t funny anymore!”
The cowboy, who had been standing next to me looking over my shoulder, swiftly grabbed the notebook from my hands and rushed back out onto the street before my manager could find us. I heard Dale shouting at him for about a minute before he gave one final, exasperated grunt and left. When the sound of his footsteps had grown distant, I left my hiding spot.
The Laughing Cowboy was leaning against the wall of a restaurant on the plaza, apparently waiting for me. I thanked him profusely. With his help, I had at least gotten a glimpse of what Dale had been so keen on hiding. The best thing about that was that my manager obviously believed the cowboy had simply been playing a prank on him. He doesn’t know I had a look at it, which spares me a lot of trouble.
In regards to the Laughing Cowboy, I told him that if he ever needed anything, he should let me know. This seemed to get him thinking for a while, but eventually, he just shook his head and tipped his hat at me before leaving, which I believe to either be his way of saying “You’re welcome” or “Goodbye”. Or maybe it’s both.
Either way, I’m at home now and still trying to make sense of Dale’s notebook.
“We who now claim ownership of this land are aware of and willing to pay the price.”
Part 10: Ride on the Stagecoach