Sam could only sigh. He'd been listening to Dean bitch about this for the last three hundred miles and it was starting to get old. They went where the jobs took them and that was all there was to it. He really didn't care that the women were shallow and orange from fake tan, or that there was nothing but old people for fifty miles outside Miami.
He was more concerned with the nine missing people that had lead them here in the first place.
Now Disneyland was a tough place to try and work a case. Literally hundreds of thousands of people went in and out every day. Security was tighter than a prison, and the park went on for miles above as well as under ground. But a recent article in the paper had grabbed Sam's attention when one of the boats in a water ride suppository tipped and all four guests were swept under.
The problem with that, of course, was that it was Disneyland and it was almost impossible to get 'swept away' when the current ran at three miles per hour. After a little digging, he had found two more articles dating several one year, and three years previous that mentioned the same instant to varying degrees. All this mixed with a tick mark on the area in their dad's journal and a word or two with Bobby, meant that yeah. There probably was something weird going on in the Land of Imagination.
"Whatever gets us in." He finally agreed, closing the door behind him and sitting on the unoccupied bed. As far as motels went, this wasn't too bad. It was close to the park, so the decor was bright and festive, pamphlets for various attractions and shuttle-buses on the small dining table.
Dean dropped his bag on the bed he'd claimed for his own, rolling his eyes. He wasn't going to do this in some kind of stupid costume. He wasn't! If Sam wanted to do it, fine. Sam could. He could do it, and he could have Dean's blessing to do it. And a few secret snapshots sent off to Bobby and a few other people. But Dean was going to go about it in the professional way. Which meant a monkey suit and a badge. Besides, people tended to back off and let you work when they thought you worked for Uncle Sam.
He unzipped the bag and pulled out first his gun, and then his knife, and they found a place on the ungodly loud bedspread themselves. "Yeah, and do you know what gets us in? Government jobs. Not some...Stupid Mickey and Minnie costume." Yes, he'd been bitching for hours about it, but did he care? No. He was sticking to his guns on this one. "You think there's a job here. Fine. I can go with that. What I can't go with is dressing up like a friggin' idiot to do that job."
Not that they...Hadn't done it before, but this time was different. "I mean, c'mon, Sam. It's Disneyland. Happiest place on earth. People die on these rides all the time. What about the dumb kid that decapitated himself?"
He was more concerned with the nine missing people that had lead them here in the first place.
Now Disneyland was a tough place to try and work a case. Literally hundreds of thousands of people went in and out every day. Security was tighter than a prison, and the park went on for miles above as well as under ground. But a recent article in the paper had grabbed Sam's attention when one of the boats in a water ride suppository tipped and all four guests were swept under.
The problem with that, of course, was that it was Disneyland and it was almost impossible to get 'swept away' when the current ran at three miles per hour. After a little digging, he had found two more articles dating several one year, and three years previous that mentioned the same instant to varying degrees. All this mixed with a tick mark on the area in their dad's journal and a word or two with Bobby, meant that yeah. There probably was something weird going on in the Land of Imagination.
"Whatever gets us in." He finally agreed, closing the door behind him and sitting on the unoccupied bed. As far as motels went, this wasn't too bad. It was close to the park, so the decor was bright and festive, pamphlets for various attractions and shuttle-buses on the small dining table.
Reply
He unzipped the bag and pulled out first his gun, and then his knife, and they found a place on the ungodly loud bedspread themselves. "Yeah, and do you know what gets us in? Government jobs. Not some...Stupid Mickey and Minnie costume." Yes, he'd been bitching for hours about it, but did he care? No. He was sticking to his guns on this one. "You think there's a job here. Fine. I can go with that. What I can't go with is dressing up like a friggin' idiot to do that job."
Not that they...Hadn't done it before, but this time was different. "I mean, c'mon, Sam. It's Disneyland. Happiest place on earth. People die on these rides all the time. What about the dumb kid that decapitated himself?"
Reply
Leave a comment