Haunted Fairy Castle ~ Installment 10

by Jessica

Aladdin

I think Cinderella thinks I’m gay. I follow her around a lot, because I’ve got these standing orders to fire her. But I’ve never fired anyone before. I lack experience, and it makes me feel bad too, because what if she really needs this job? She doesn’t strike me as the kind of girl who has enormous mental resources to fall back on, if the princess gig doesn’t work out. I can fire her easily enough when I’m at home, practicing in front of the mirror, but whenever I actually get close enough to fire her in person, I panic. I turn bright red, and start sweating, and then I make up some lame excuse for being there, such as “do you know where the bathrooms are?” I must have asked her where the bathrooms are about ten times now. She either thinks I’m gay, or that I have some kind of intense bowel affliction.

*

Today, Aladdin got in a fight with Winnie the Pooh. Winnie the Pooh said Aladdin sat on his honey jar, and mashed it flat. The honey jar is made of springy cotton, so I don’t think Aladdin really hurt it, but Winnie the Pooh has been brooding for a long time now. Aladdin had this coming to him.
You would think Aladdin would have the advantage in a fight, because of all those muscles, but Winnie the Pooh has a lot of padding. All Aladdin’s blows just keep bouncing right off him. Then Winnie the Pooh tummy bumped Aladdin, and knocked him flat. All the girls gathered around. Some of them looked at Winnie the Pooh with a whole new expression in their eyes.
I enjoyed the fight, but did not let myself get involved romantically. Peter Pan is the only animated character who does it for me. Aladdin is too stuck up, and Winnie the Pooh is a belligerent.

*

Another tourist called my office today and said he saw a ghost in the Fairy Castle. I told him he must have been mistaken as to his location. He told me he was unmistakably located in the Fairy Castle at the time of the sighting, because the ghost was sitting on the lap of a sparkle-faced muppet, waggling his head and tunelessly humming along to the cupcake song.
So I lowered my voice and said, “listen, you know there’s no such thing as ghosts, right?” But my boss overheard. She told me if she catches me denying the existence of ghosts one more time, I can go the way of Cinderella, and good riddance. She’s a tough lady, my boss, and yet, there’s something about her that inspires me. On the surface, she’s an interesting combination of an evil stepmother and Pumba the Warthog, yet she fills me with an odd desire to make her proud. (Continue…)

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