Young Writers Society

Amy Parker strolled mindlessly through Junipers Hardware and Antiques on Adams Blvd. in Los Angeles, California.

She was there to find water fountains for New Orleans Square in Disneyland, CA, because the ones by the shrubbery had broken down earlier that morning.

Her boss, Gary Impalson, seemed to think it was all her fault that these ancient water fountains could randomly stop working, so she was forced to sit through a twenty minute long lecture which included lots of "This is important, Amy"s, "Snap out of it, Amy!"s, and "Do you understand me, Amy?"s. He bragged about how he had gone to some sort of pluming school and he knew all about water pipes or whatever, and these water fountains were unfixble. She doubted he even looked at them, though. He probably just wanted an excuse to send her away so he could be left to his own miserable self.

She had been sent to this smelly, moldy, and upright gross department store, claiming this is where the originals had been bought from. Even if that was true, she highly doubted that they still had them in stock, but she wasn't in a position to refuse orders, so she went along with it.

A lot of times, she would think to herself, Disneyland is supposed to be the happiest place on earth. So why do I hate it so much there? Then she would think, It's not the "there" that I hate. It's the people that work at the "there". The workers, or at least behind the scenes workers, are snappy, angry, and stressed out people with social issues. Amy couldn't wait to be promoted, which she knew was bound to happen soon, considering she had worked as the behind the scenes assistant manager for quite some time.

She brushed her hands against rows and rows of antique furniture set up to look like a real living space. Not that any sane person would live in this store, she thought.

As she walked, her eyes skittered about in search of cream-colored glass water fountains. Two, in fact, although Mr. Impalson (as she called him) made it perfectly clear that "one would do just fine".

She stopped in a corner stuffed high up the ceilings with antique silverware and dishware. Another older looking woman with graying brown hair and thin glasses was standing right next to her wearing a red vest with a name tag on it reading "Sally Carey." Assuming that meant she was a Junipers' Employee, she kindly said to the woman,

"Excuse me, hi. My name is Amy Parker, and I'm the assistant behind the scenes manager at Disneyland." She paused to give Sally a chance to speak.

"How do you do Amy? I'm Sally." She said with a hoarse tone in her voice. "What can I help you with today?"

"Well," Amy replied, relived the woman was considerably kind, "I was wondering if you may have any ceramic water fountains here. The ones we have at Disneyland broke down this morning, and my boss sent me here."

"Ahhhhh, the water fountains. I'm sorry to say we do not have any more, but listen here Amy. I've been working here over 60 years, and I remember every item I have ever sold, and the person I sold it to. And you can't have imagined the day, I was around twenty five I think, when no one else but Walt Disney himself strolled on in here and bought those two fountains. Yes, yes, I did everything I could to play it cool, but the way Walt looked at me, oh he was pure and full of magic, that one."

Amy stood with her mouth open, speechless, but urged Sally to go on in her head. She could barely imagine what that would have been like, to see Walt Disney so straight up like that.

"I guess you could say I was star struck, but that doesn't describe the half of it. My dad helped him haul the fountains over to the register, and the two of them chatted away like old friends. Walt had this sort of magic to him that made everyone feel comfortable around him as if you had known him for years. I, on the other hand, was so utterly charmed that after he left and my shift ended, I stole his receipt and went home to frame it and carefully hang it up on the wall in my room. Actually, I may still have that receipt. If your willing to wait for a moment, I could go check around to see if it's any where by the counter. "

Still speechless, Amy nodded her head in excitement.

Sally chucked and walked away, heading towards the counter. Amy turned her head around to stare at the silver forks and spoons, when her phone rang. She was so startled that she nearly fell over backwards, but was able to compose herself and pick up quickly.

"Hello?" she said.

"Yes, Amy, hi, this is Gary. Gary Impalson. Your boss."

"I know who you are, Mr. Impalson." She sighed, rolling her eyes.

"Right. A plummer just called and informed me that the fountain, er, was, in fact, fixable, so I don't see any reason for you to not, er, return. And as long as you haven't bought anything yet, no replacements will be needed."

Another sigh came out of Amy, not in exasperation, but of relief.

"Okay. I haven't bought anything yet, so I'll be back in around thirty minutes." She informed him. "Good bye."

"Take your time." He told her. And he hung up.

She turned around to see Sally standing there, staring at her.

"I found it." She said. From behind her back, she whipped out a picture frame. In it was a short receipt which was written with messy font and blue ink. And scribbled at the bottom on top of a hand written line was the name Walt Disney, with the W and the D exceptionally large and swirles all around.

"Can I hold the frame?" She asked, feeling just as starstruck as she would have if Walt Disney was standing where Sally Carey now was.

"Of course." Sally replied, with a small smile creeping up her face.

She handed Amy the frame, which she took with careful hands.

Amy stared and stared at this work. It wasn't much, just an ordinary receipt, but on it was the signature of a not so ordinary man. Walt had done many, many wonders in his time, and he was a man who many admired, herself included.

"It's so weird to think Walt himself wrote this." she said.

When there was no reply, she raised her head up to nothing but an aisle filled with cushioned chairs. No sign anyone was ever there.

And Sally Carey had vanished from sight.