Candy Paint--a Willy's Wonderland FanFic

Chapter 2

Willy's Wonderland had been a place I called home for many, many years. I could recall visiting there long before Mom and Dad had signed the divorce papers. It was one of those places that was a health department condemnation waiting to happen. Kids were always running around and screaming without their shoes, pizza was smeared on walls, half the arcade games were out of order, and to top it all off, their signature animatronic band was creepy as hell. I enjoyed the shows as a child for some reason, always finding myself near the stage listening to Willy the Weasel and his strange array of band members perform. I always took a particular liking to Willy the Weasel, given his pair of green overalls looked a lot like a pair I used to own when I was smaller. Since Willy's Wonderland was the only real 'birthday party' place in Hayesville, or anywhere within Rockwell County, I spent many birthdays there. Most of my own, but some from my friends. Despite the fact I spent so much time there, I was completely oblivious to what was going on behind closed doors. I wished so badly I had found out later than I did.

A staticky song played over the radio, as the steady hum of the engine seemed to overpower it. There were about 40 miles on all sides of Hayesville till any signs of civilization. The trip to Ely, the nearest town, was a two hour drive roundtrip, which is another reason I was so reluctant to get a job. Gas for a V8 engine was not cheap. If I could get the job, though, It was a little bigger than Hayesville, but there were alot more job opportunities. They had a Walmart bagging position with my name on it.

Pulling into Ely, Walmart was one of the first large buildings I saw. Pulling into the faded parking lot, I took note of a homeless man passed out against the adobe wall. The parking lines were just as faded as the large Walmart logo above me. After finding a decent parking spot, I gathered my courage together and stepped out of the Mustang. The sun was at high noon, which meant the heat was at a high. I wiped the back of my neck, locking the car. Safety was one of my priorities, despite convincing the Sheriff's department to believe otherwise.

The barren inside of the Walmart was no better than the outside. Dad would frequently send me here for our bi-monthly grocery shopping, and they never managed to get their restocks in time. About half the customers were people from Ely. The other half were tourists looking for a quick 6-pack. I walked along the cracked tile to one of the only cashier stands open.

"Did you come back to pay for something, Vic?" The cashier asked, running a hand over his sweaty face. He was fairly tall, probably at least six feet. His stained Walmart apron covered his sweaty black t-shirt. Maybe twenty or so years old was my guess.

"No, I'm here to pick up an application," I responded. The small Walmart crew knew me by name; trying to apply for a position here was a risky move in itself.

"You're joking, right?" The cashier asked, giving a small laugh.

"Um, no," I replied, glancing at his name tag. It read 'CASON' with very scribbly writing, "I can always find Jen and ask her,"

Jen was a large, blonde lady who was here every time I was. She'd always help me find things, and if I managed to strike up a conversation with her, she'd give me their employee discounts.

"Please don't, I've already broken two flats of bread, so she'll jump on the opportunity right now to fire me," Cason replied, looking over the empty store.

"Application then?" I smiled. Cason sighed, rummaging beneath his cash register. Pulling out a clean application, I took it quickly. "I'll have it back in a few days," I called to Cason.

"We'll be anticipating your every step," He called back sarcastically.

Stepping back into the Nevada sun, I held the paper tightly. The wind was blowing swiftly and the last thing I wanted was to go back in and ask for another one. The cloth seats of the Mustang made my back grossly sweaty as the drive home was spent fiddling with the climate control. If Walmart didn't work out, there was no point in trying to search any more in Ely. The drive would be too long. I had recognized Cason from Hayesville; he was one of Aaron's friends. Unlike most of the people in Hayesville, Cason also had a car. There was a family-owned dealership in Hayesville, which also operated a towing service, but there were rarely any purchases made there. I was good friends with the owner, good old Jed. He had known me since I was a baby, and had been like an uncle to me. Dad disapproved of his dishonest car services, but it was truly the only way to make money in an economy like Hayesville's. In fact, he was the one who sold us the Mustang. For a small fine of ten grand, the lemon was ours. Plus all the repairs that came with it, that we also paid Jed to fix.