Amusement

Part 1: Professionalism

Author's Note: I've already produced this story as an e-book, but I value helpful feedback from any front, so be sure to dive in and tell me your thoughts. Thanks.

Update July 18, 2019: Story has been revised. There are now seven parts and a slight change in focus.

Part 1:

"Professionalism"

________

"I am not amused by your policies," Sammy said, as he squeezed the life out of his steering wheel, ready to bend it out of shape. "I am here for business, not for play. I expect to park for free."

     The parking attendant, a dainty forty-year-old smoker with auburn hair and freckles, whistled at his guest's predicament. It was not the low rhythmic chime of a work tune he whistled, nor the low-pitched collapse of regret, but the simple o-shaped exhalation of apathy that escaped his mouth, and it cut Sammy deep beneath the skin. He had the bright doe-eyes of a ventriloquist's dummy, and the compassion of a ventriloquist's audience. He smiled with his thick lips and yellow chalky teeth. They looked like they were better fit for a cadaver.

     "Unless I have clearance, happy sir," said the attendant, maintaining that wretched smile, "I have to charge you the normal ten dollars."

     As he spoke with that raspy singsong voice, he danced in place, doing a basic three-step maneuver, flailing his arms over his head. A sway here, and a jungle thrust there: he might as well have been a dancing balloon strapped to a high-powered fan trying to encourage new drivers to enter here and forever lose their souls. Was this the future of customer service? Sammy grunted at the thought.

     "Your sign says five dollars."

     "That's a conditional fee, astutest of all astute sirs."

     "Conditional?"

     The attendant smiled and nodded. As his head bobbed, his hair flopped all over the place.

     "On what?" Sammy asked.

     "We charge five dollars for many cars, but we charge ten dollars for new, shiny cars with plush interiors. Not that we're prejudice here at the Happy Fun Land parking lot or anything. Certainly we're tolerant of all makes and models. But new cars encourage greater freedoms, and thus greater attention. It's an insurance thing, most indubitably."

     "You are charging me ten dollars?"

      The attendant swung his left arm in an arc and thrust his thumb up and smiled.

     "Because my car is shiny?"

     The attendant shuffled in place. This must've been how they said "yes" at Happy Fun Land.

     Sammy the businessman looked past the gate and across the ground floor of the multileveled parking lot, hoping to find an empty spot close by. All he saw, however, were SUVs and vacant handicapped spots available. Figured. He sucked against the back of his teeth with his tongue. He could feel a piece of meat stuck between the center groove. One way or another he was getting in. Not that he wanted to, of course. But getting in was on the agenda.

     "Get me your supervisor," he whispered.

     "He's not here, delightful sir."

     "Go find him then."

     "I can't. He's in the South Pacific this weekend getting a rapturous tan."

     Sammy glanced over his shoulder for a better look at the vehicles waiting behind him. He expected to hear the blares of horns by now, but they remained silent. Through their sparkling windshields he noticed the drivers' faces and their toothy smiles gleaming like rows of ecstasy pills. Sammy crossed his arms and focused on the parking attendant.