Disney Magic

Disney Magic: Chapter Nine

Harry lingered by Mr. Smith’s door, tugging nervously on the hem of his shirt.

This was it, he was going to turn in his resignation, go get a job as a wizard in Harry Potter World, or maybe even Dr. Seuss land, and get as far away from Disney World, and Peter Pan, as he possibly could.

“Come in, Mr. Styles,” Mr. Smiths gruff voice called from inside and Harry took a deep, calming breath before reaching out and twisting the doorknob, entering the room.

Mr. Smith was working on, what must’ve been, his third cigar this morning alone, tapping the butt of it into the same Mickey Mouse ashtray, wearing the same Goofy tie, the same Donald Duck lighter resting on his desk, where the same pictures of Mr. Smith, standing with fictional cartoon characters were still displayed.

He wondered what it must be like, to invest your life into Disney, to have cartoons as children instead of real ones. Mr. Smith had surrendered fully to the grip of Disney Magic, and had ended up single, overweight, and angry.

But yet, he always seemed so happy.

That was Disney Magic, Harry had learned. It makes you do and fall for absolute shit, but convinces you you’re happy that way.

Which was exactly why he had to leave.

“Ah, Mr. Styles,” Mr. Smith greeted, glancing up from his computer and taking a puff of his cigar, “To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?”

Harry swallowed thickly and lingered by the door, only sitting after Mr. Smith waved him closer to the overstuffed chairs that sat in front of his desk. Harry sunk into one, trying to build the nerve to flat out quit, without another job or even place to live lined up.

He was jumping overboard, without any lifesaver to hang onto. All because he was jealous of a girl.

It all seemed quite primary school to him. Then again, that was the age Disney appealed to, so maybe it was supposed to be that way, and Harry just couldn’t grasp the magic.

“Sir,” Harry said slowly, chewing on his lip in between words, as he worked out his resignation speech, “I think I would like to quit my position here at Walt Disney World.”

Silence hung in the air and Mr. Smith leaned back in his chair, staring at Harry and setting his cigar aside, “You think?” he asked and Harry nodded, running a hand nervously through his hair.

“Actually, sir, I know.”

Mr. Smith nodded, staring in silence for another minute, before sighing and shaking his head, picking up his cigar again, “Alright. You’re to be off property by the end of the day,” he said simply and Harry stared back at him blankly, trying to keep his mind running properly.

And just like that he was jobless and homeless, all in a couple of seconds and all because of the Peter Pan who was prancing around, completely oblivious, surrounded by the lovely oblivion that Disney Magic created to all that would let it in.

“Thank you sir,” Harry whispered, slowly pushing himself up to his feet, in a bit of a daze.

Mr. Smith nodded, reaching across his desk for his phone and punching in the numbers with his fat fingers.

“Martha? Yeah. Send me that kid who’s been playing Dale. He’s moving up to Flynn-“

The door slammed shut behind Harry, and he slumped back to his apartment, with a heavy heart, to pack up.

-o-

Harry didn’t have the nerve to call his Mother, who would no doubt insist that he return home immediately, which probably would’ve been smarter than purchasing a hotel room at the shitty motel Harry found, while walking down the side of Orlando’s highway.