up,” the zombie girl said.
“Fuck that.” And he snatched the money out of my hand.
I stood there as Dracula disappeared into the Castle.
“That sucked,” Renaldo said under his breath.
I turned around and faced a bunch of cast members watching behind me. The dudes turned their backs but a couple chicks took pity on me. The demonic nun and zombie girl came over. They were both hot as monsters but the demonic nun was totally incredible. I couldn’t imagine what was underneath the getup, but what was on top totally worked. Seeing her walk in my direction, actually toward me, was a new rush.
“Hey, don’t worry about it, he’s a dick anyways,” the zombie girl said. “He’s acting that way because you’re taller than him.”
“Yeah?” Thanks, Zombie Girl, but I really want to know what the demonic nun has to say.
“Why do you think he likes being on the mantel so much?”
“Oh.” Okay, Zombie Girl was cool.
“What’s your name?” the demonic nun said.
“Donovan.” Success! She speaks!
“You need a real job. I know the manager is looking to hire someone, want me to introduce you to him?”
“That’d be really cool.”
They went to get the manager. Renaldo got up and elbowed me.
“Dude, are you sure you want to give up what we’ve got going here?” he asked.
“Dude, yeah!”
Renaldo looked disappointed.
“Our own hours? Our own boss? Our own money?”
“What money?” I said, pulling my pockets out.
“Fuck, man.”
The Castle’s back door opened and a short, fat man in his forties came out smoking a cigar, wearing a Hawaiian shirt and corduroy shorts. The mostly unbuttoned shirt showed off his extensive bed of chest hair, so thick that his gold chain just floated on top of it.
“You the kid?”
“Uh, I dunno.” This was happening fast.
“You’re the fuckin’ kid. How old are you?”
“Six—”
The guy shook his head before I could finish.
“Sev—?”
He shook his head again.
“Eighteen?” I said.
“Ha, whatever. So you want a job here?”
“Yeah!”
“Four bucks an hour, under the table.”
I was confused.
“You get paid, you just don’t get a pay slip.”
“No problem.”
“Be here tomorrow, ten o’clock.”
“Thank you so much, this is like a dream come true.”
“What’s your name?”
“Donovan.”
“Donovan, welcome to my fuckin’ nightmare. I’m Jack Spires.”
He threw the cigar down and went back inside. The open door let out all kinds of screams coming from inside the Castle.
Renaldo got up from the table.
“Dude, so you’re just gonna ditch me now, huh?” he said.
“No way. But fuck, man. The Castle!”
“Alright, bro. I get it. But don’t get all weird on me when you’re a big shot. Or I’ll spit in your nachos.”
“I promise I won’t get weirder than I already am.”
“Okay, then we’ll make a plan to punch Dracula in the fucking face on Saturday.”
The next morning, I showed up an hour early to the Castle. The pier was empty and I used the time to walk around every inch of it, now that I would be “Donovan . . . from the Castle.” I went to the end of the pier and looked out at the ocean, the horizon, and breathed in the salty air. But it didn’t matter how picturesque it was. I turned my back to it and gazed down the pier toward the Castle. My heart beat with anticipation and intimidation.
Just before ten o’clock, as the steel gates rolled up on the arcade, food stands, and carnival games, I walked to the back door, eager to get inside the Castle. I joined the group of about forty people gathered by the back door. A community of individuals, all dressed in street clothes and without makeup yet, ranged in age from older teens and early twenties to a few in their thirties. They were all older, confident, relaxed, cooler—just more of everything I wanted to be. Most of the people looked far too normal to be concerned with the dark side. The Castle was their frat house. But a small group of the
“Fuck that.” And he snatched the money out of my hand.
I stood there as Dracula disappeared into the Castle.
“That sucked,” Renaldo said under his breath.
I turned around and faced a bunch of cast members watching behind me. The dudes turned their backs but a couple chicks took pity on me. The demonic nun and zombie girl came over. They were both hot as monsters but the demonic nun was totally incredible. I couldn’t imagine what was underneath the getup, but what was on top totally worked. Seeing her walk in my direction, actually toward me, was a new rush.
“Hey, don’t worry about it, he’s a dick anyways,” the zombie girl said. “He’s acting that way because you’re taller than him.”
“Yeah?” Thanks, Zombie Girl, but I really want to know what the demonic nun has to say.
“Why do you think he likes being on the mantel so much?”
“Oh.” Okay, Zombie Girl was cool.
“What’s your name?” the demonic nun said.
“Donovan.” Success! She speaks!
“You need a real job. I know the manager is looking to hire someone, want me to introduce you to him?”
“That’d be really cool.”
They went to get the manager. Renaldo got up and elbowed me.
“Dude, are you sure you want to give up what we’ve got going here?” he asked.
“Dude, yeah!”
Renaldo looked disappointed.
“Our own hours? Our own boss? Our own money?”
“What money?” I said, pulling my pockets out.
“Fuck, man.”
The Castle’s back door opened and a short, fat man in his forties came out smoking a cigar, wearing a Hawaiian shirt and corduroy shorts. The mostly unbuttoned shirt showed off his extensive bed of chest hair, so thick that his gold chain just floated on top of it.
“You the kid?”
“Uh, I dunno.” This was happening fast.
“You’re the fuckin’ kid. How old are you?”
“Six—”
The guy shook his head before I could finish.
“Sev—?”
He shook his head again.
“Eighteen?” I said.
“Ha, whatever. So you want a job here?”
“Yeah!”
“Four bucks an hour, under the table.”
I was confused.
“You get paid, you just don’t get a pay slip.”
“No problem.”
“Be here tomorrow, ten o’clock.”
“Thank you so much, this is like a dream come true.”
“What’s your name?”
“Donovan.”
“Donovan, welcome to my fuckin’ nightmare. I’m Jack Spires.”
He threw the cigar down and went back inside. The open door let out all kinds of screams coming from inside the Castle.
Renaldo got up from the table.
“Dude, so you’re just gonna ditch me now, huh?” he said.
“No way. But fuck, man. The Castle!”
“Alright, bro. I get it. But don’t get all weird on me when you’re a big shot. Or I’ll spit in your nachos.”
“I promise I won’t get weirder than I already am.”
“Okay, then we’ll make a plan to punch Dracula in the fucking face on Saturday.”
The next morning, I showed up an hour early to the Castle. The pier was empty and I used the time to walk around every inch of it, now that I would be “Donovan . . . from the Castle.” I went to the end of the pier and looked out at the ocean, the horizon, and breathed in the salty air. But it didn’t matter how picturesque it was. I turned my back to it and gazed down the pier toward the Castle. My heart beat with anticipation and intimidation.
Just before ten o’clock, as the steel gates rolled up on the arcade, food stands, and carnival games, I walked to the back door, eager to get inside the Castle. I joined the group of about forty people gathered by the back door. A community of individuals, all dressed in street clothes and without makeup yet, ranged in age from older teens and early twenties to a few in their thirties. They were all older, confident, relaxed, cooler—just more of everything I wanted to be. Most of the people looked far too normal to be concerned with the dark side. The Castle was their frat house. But a small group of the
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