Anaheim PD
This piece is a work of fiction. Just like Disneyland.
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It wasn’t the first time I had been called onto assignment in the park. Behind all the fluffy cotton candy and water ride splashes, there were always a million lies. It started with the ludicrous overpricing for the tickets, the food, the souvenir cups; the happiest place on Earth was always the greediest. It turns out that dressing up as Mickey Mouse doesn’t actually turn you into a friendly talking mouse; there was always some depressed scumbag dressed up as that piece of shit intellectual property.
I called in for reinforcements because I could tell this was going to get messy. Why can’t people keep their problems outside of the pearly gates of Cinderella’s castle? But it was too late now — the ride would be stopped, the music would end, and the illusions would break. And I needed more people to take care of how terrible this situation was going to get. Mickey wouldn’t suffice.
This was much worse than I could have expected it to be. I saw blood on the floor and the sickening look in his eyes. I pulled my gun out and yelled at the top of my lungs — “ANAHEIM PD — HANDS UP, RIGHT NOW”. The screaming started and I saw the fear in the eyes of all the people around. They had paid for overpriced tickets, food, and souvenir cups, and I saw them drop it all in fear of what would happen next. I broke the illusion of fantasyland, of stars and dreams, and belief.
What killed me though is seeing the kid let go of her overpriced balloon when I fired the shot. It flew away into the air as if it had never been bought, as if it had been given to her for free. 500 acres of escape and joy didn’t change that this was just another crime-ridden city in the United States. It was just Anaheim, where the most hardened perpetrators had once been tricked into wishing upon a star too.
