Flowernon - Apple Family

>you were fucked.
>you were at a bar, trying to forget what just happened only five minutes ago.
>you were also, well, you.
>average height, well toned; not buff, but you kept in shape and didng become a little fatty.
>you were currently at a party, an after graduation party to be precice.
>you had finally made it, and you knew exactly what you wanted to be, where you wanted to go, what you wanted to do. everything was planned out to the very letter.
>you had a close knit of true friends, and also some aquatiances that you knew, come by and congradulate you before they went off and did... well, whatever they were thinking about doing.
>"so i guess it just wasnt ment to be." a voice said in the seat next to you.
>you turn, though you already know who it was.
"you make it sound like you knew this would happen, Norman."
>the guy with his usual laid back demenor chuckled. "No," he said afterwards "i just have a knack for these kinds of things."
"still doesnt make it hurt any less." you muttered, nursing the liquid that rested in your red plastic cup; youve seen movies.
>"still doesnt mean you should be a sour puss about it!" another voice said, coming to refill your drink.
Flash sentry came just in time.
>youve known Flash the longest; since 4th grade.
>Norman since 11th grade.
>youve gotten along better with Norman more than Flash.
>the latter actually treats you like an adult. the former...
>you try not to think about it.
>you had other pressing matters.
>as stated, you had everything planned.
>you were going to become a journalism major and write books on different places that youve traveled to.
>making the world open their eyes, you always said.
>but before that, you were supposed to start your wonderful adulthood with a graduation present
>a trip to Gallopinghost Islands, with your friends and your lovely girlfriend.

>but nope.
>life has to kick you in the teeth.
>your mom and dad just last night told you that your trip wasn't happening. why? because your dad got demoted from his job.
>something about family feuds and nepotism...
>damn apples...
>not only that, but your acceptance into jullieghard university would have to wait, since you couldnt afford room n board on your own, and you parents couldnt help you anymore.
>so they were having you get a summer job.
>great.
>at least you had your girlfriend that was staying close to home.
>at least you did... 10 minutes ago.

------ 10 mins ago. ------

"....and thats why The Giver by Lois Lowry should have never been adapted to be a feature length film."
>"uhuh...."
>you smiled brightly. holy shit this was working.
>you were finally talking to her and not getting that weird queesy feeling.
>you could actually hold a conversation with her, while looking into her eyes.
>sure, you were no beta male, but being around Coco Pommel really made it seem like you were.
>her blue hair, the little red flower in her hair that contrasted well with her skin and eyes
>its been a good few months for you two...
>"A-anon... listen, hon." she said, now looking down into her red solo cup.
>"youre a... realllly really nice guy."
"..."
>"but i think its time..."
>wait.
>wait what.
"what do you mean?" you say, feigning ignorance.
>its never a good sign when a girl uses that sort of tone when they say those 4 words.
>you thought you did everything right.
>where did you fuck up?
>"i think its time we see other people."
"w-whuh...?" you say, dumfounded and numb.
>she looks at you, sighing. "sorry anon. i just dont think were cut out for each other."
>she gives you one last pleading look, then walks off, leaving you staring, your heart feeling like its been ripped out and flayed, topped with a nice sauce and decorative garnish.
>and she didnt even eat half of it.
>or give you a decent tip.

---- Now. ------

>a band was heard somewhere outside as you, norman, and flash looked behind you to catch the performance.
> [YouTube] Tiny Moving Parts - Always Focused (Official Video)
"were still going job hunting, right flash?" you say, begrudgingly.
>you really didnt want to go job hunting at all.
>hell, youve barely ever worked at all.
>you were a writer, and your parents never really asked you to do any physical labor or even get a job in the first place.
>there was no need.
>"aaaactually, about that."
>aaaand here it comes.
>"i already got myself an interview with this place; a carnival. yknow, rides, carni games, corn dogs, the works, dude."
"oh. uh, ok then."
>"'course, ill put in a good word for you if i get the job." he said, ruffling up your hair rather roughly.
"thanks, i guess." you say, not looking at him fully.
>you sure as hell didnt want to work at some run down carnival.
>you had a 4 GPA
>there mustve been SOMETHING you could do... right?
>Norman had given you a list of places that were looking for jobs around the neighborhood for you to start your search yesterday.
>a true pal.
>even if he was leaving you to deal with this stuff alone.
>... wouldntve been the first time.
>you sigh, knocking back the strong scented liquid down your throat, giving a small cough.
>christ that burned, but the warmth travling down your throat into your stomach made it worth.
>perhaps.... perhaps you could make do.
>this is just a speed bump on your road to what you truly desire.
>you cant back down now...!

------ The next day, SUNDAY ------

>You really feel like backing down now.
>Your reeelly not feeling it.
> [YouTube] I'M REALLY FEELING IT
>Your encounter with phone interviews and first impressions from walking into establishments and showing off your talking skills worked as well as yamcha fighting raditz.
>Sure you could talk to them with ease, but when it came to actually explaining why you deserved the job or what your redeeming qualities were, you fell flat on your face.
>With no actual job experience, no one really wanted to hire you
>Figures how that works out.
>How the hell are people supposed to hire you when they want experience, but in order to get experience you need to have a job?
>Shit was backwards.
>You sighed, defeted.
>"Having trouble honey?" your mom asks, a small tone of concern in her voice.
"Well, yeah, kind of."
>"How's that possible?" your dad asks. "you have a 4.0 average, you cant NOT have a job!"
"Its a little more than that." you say, looking at the phone rather than your parents.
"First off, i wasnt really planning on having to get a job this early in the first place."
"Second, with no job experience, my so called 4.0 is just that. A number."
>You run your fingers through your hair, exasparated.
>The semester starts soon, and you feel like its partially your fault that you were unprepared for this sort of thing.
>it was their fault for blindsidning you like this, but thats neither here nor there.
>"Well, what about that one job Flash ended up getting an interview for?" your mom inquiries.
>You slowly close your eyes at the thought.
>Flash wasnt a bad guy, he was just childish
>But he was the sort of childish that you would rather put your eyes in your scrotum rather than actually have to work a 40 hr. job with him.
>Ugh.


>But your mom was right, as there was really no other choice for you.
>If Flash could get an interview like that, anything was possible.
>...Fuck it.
>A quick Goggle search later, you look up the number for that local carnival.
>What was the name again?
>Oh, oh yeah.
>Canterland.
>*Ring... Ring....*
>*Ring... Ring...*
"...Are they closed-"
>Suddenly, a loud click on the other end startled you, and you moved your ear away from the reciever.
>"Ah told ya Flim, we ain't gonna sell yer half-assed apple pastries in mah establishment, 'n thats final!"
>A pause.
>"Waitaminute..." the phone muttered.
>He must have realized that the caller id said something different than what he thought.
>You could already hear the spaghetti spilling.
>"O-oh golly! Ahm terribly sorry 'bout that- er, thank ya kindly for callin' Canterland: Where you can prance to yer heart's content!"
>...Yeah ok.
>"What can i do you for?"
>His southern accent was soft and comforting, but you knew not to piss him off now.
>Breath in, breath out. You got this.
"Hello, sir, I was looking for a job and I heard from a friend that you were hiring. Could you give me some information on that?"
>Nailed it.
>"Oh ah see! Well shoot, we can always use some help 'round here. When's the earliest y'can come in Mr...?"
"Anonymus. Anon for short. And i can come in at any time you want me."
>"Perfect! can y'come in 'round 4:00? I think we can fit y'up with sumthin."
>Score.
>You look at the time on your phone.
>Its about 3:05.
>You'd rather have a good hour to get ready for a spontaneous interview like this
>You didnt even really know how to get to Canterland, but by god you'd make it if it was the last thing you'd do
>This is your Final Solution.
>...
>Dont say that out loud.
"Sure thing," you say, giving a small smile you know he couldn't see. "See you in a bit, Mr...?"
>"Braeburn. See y'then!"
>That name sounded familar.

>As your thinking, you hear a faint yelling from the other end. something about "Quit the litterin'" or something along those lines.
>You silently hang up.
>You're sure he can handle...whatever that was.
>Anyway, you had an interview to get ready for.
>First you needed to find out where the hell this place was.
>Goggle, your true bro, lets you know its about a 25 minute drive away.
>10 mins for a shower
>25 mins for the drive over, not counting traffic
>That would put you out at 3:40, if you started now.
>...You'd make a quick lunch before coming in. 10 mins, tops.


------ SUNDAY 3:55pm ------

>You could've been hear a bit earlier.
>You always like being at least 10 minutes early to any event that you were invited to.
>Of course, thats with careful planning.
>So you can let this one slide for now.
>You can hear music flowing through the speakers as you walk onto the grounds.
>
>Not really your tastes, but you can get used to it after a while.
>There's little wrapers for candy and other consumables strewn along the ground here and there.
>Thankfully the smell of the fresh fried pastries and other goodies overide whatever trash smell that might have been lingering around.
>You can see Seagulls above, sometimes swooping down to steal a park-goer's food when they saw an opening.
>You swear those bastards are like gang members.
>Don't fuck with seagulls.
>Surveying the rides, you see kids and adults alike having fun on things like a Ferris wheel, Bumpercars, and many different rollercoasters.
>The rides seem a bit more rickety for your tastes.
>How long has this place been open?
>Either way, you're sure to ask for a ride job.
>It shouldn't be too hard to direct children to or away from certain rides.
>You can picture it now.
>You are the Ganondorf of the rides.
>You are too short for this ride. YOU SHALL NOT PASS.
>You'd have a big stick to bang on the ground for emphasis too.
>Fucking Sick.

>After your survey of the ride part of the park, you find the manager's office with a minute left to spare.
>It seems that it was in the middle of the park.
>Good to know.
>You Knock on the wooden door once.
>Twice.
>Back straight.
>Shoulders back.
>Spaghetti secured.
>Confident, yet not shit eating smile.
>Bitchin'.
>You walk into the office and see a man with a cowboy hat, and barechested except for a leather vest, pointing a bow and, presumably fake arrow, at a freckled woman with green pigtails, red bows, and a stuffed pony on her head.
>You walk out.
"..."
>You walk in once more and the man has a smile so sencere it would make any lie detector seem faulty.
>The woman on the other hand, stands flustered and replaces the stuffed pony with a cream colored cowboy hat, complimenting her denim vest and skirt.
>"Howdy!" exclaimed the man. "Welcome to Canterland! I reckon y'must be Anon."
>you give a short sigh and give your best smile once more.
"Yeah, thats right. I assume you're Mr.Braeburn?"
>He nods, pulling some papers out of a nearby desk.
>"Too right, and this here's my wonderful partner, Apple Fritter." he said, gesturing to the woman who came up silently and stuck out her hand.
>You took it and gave a sligtly firm shake.
>He sits down at the desk in an old beaten up swivel chair. Apple Fritter looks over his shoulder as he writes, and he gives a slightly annoyed look to her.
>She smirked nervously and left the back of his chair.
>Yeesh. Tough croud.

>"So you wanted to get a job here?" Braeburn asked, looking at your body in an... odd fashion. You werent sure if you liked it.
"Y-yeah, that's the whole reas-"
>"Hmm, you got yourself a strong physique son, you look like a 'games' kinda fella."
>What.
"What?"
>You honestly forgot that there were carnival games, but you didnt really want to do that at all
>All depictions of carnival game moderators looked miserable.
"A-actually sir, i was hoping for a 'rides' position."
>"Mmmmm.... naww, youre more of a games kind of guy." he muttered, already writing on the lines of the paper. You assumed this was an employment fourm.
>"What do you think, Fritters?"
>"Yeppers, mr.Brae, definitely positively more of a games guy. call this guy Mr.Games c-caus thats what he is-"
>"Yeah, okay, a simple 'yes' wouldve been dandy, Fritts."
>"Y-yes sir. Sorry sir."