Finding Charlie Brown
Prologue: The Parting of Two Friends
Disney World, Main Street, USA
The streetlamp flickered like a firefly, the night sky was starless. The world was sleeping. The shops were closed, the old wooden posts and signs creaked, having idle conversations about when they used to be marvels of engineering. The road, which was made of cobblestone, shivered as the wind blew cold wind from the north. The only thing that seemed to be alive was the statue in the middle of walkway, just in front of the Cinderella's Castle. Walt's never fading smile was being to show age, just like the man himself, and Mickey was no longer a youthful personification, but a shadow of his former self. His soul was gone. There was nothing left of him that screamed optimistic mascot. Instead there was an empty shell, that now wore a business suit and tie, holding a briefcase.
Mr. Joseph McCarthy stood in front of the statue in his business suit. His face looked sleep deprived, but he got eight hours of sleep each night, he was just an old. Seventy-three. He placed his hand on Mickey's shoulder, shivering a little at the unexpected cold copper. Mr. Joseph breathed in, as if absorbing some kind of energy or life force, but he just took a breath. He closed his eyes as he heard approaching footsteps. "I'm sorry." McCarthy said. "I am so sorry, but I can't do this anymore." The footsteps stopped, McCarthy turned and in front of him, in a trench coat, pretending to be somebody he wasn't was a rooster. Panchito Pistoles. He was wearing a white button up shirt and black dress pants, as if he were doing business. The trench coat, which was a dark brown, shielded the wind.
The rooster nodded. "Here," McCarthy said, handing him the briefcase. "everything you need is in here." Panchito held the briefcase in his arms as if it were a sacred child who needed all the comfort in the world. He looked up at Joseph, his eyes filled with regret, as if he had caused all of the world's problems. "Will I ever see you again mi amigo?" Joseph shook his head. He was voiceless in the mouth, but his heart wept and screamed in anguish. Here was someone who always believed that he could do anything, asking if he would ever see him again. Here was the one person who stopped by everyday at precisely three o'clock every afternoon to have a late lunch, a cup of coffee, and a cigar, because he wanted to spend some time with him. Here was his oldest friend, as far as cartoons go, holding his briefcase standing in a ridiculous trench coat with the saddest eyes in the world. Joseph sighed. "I'm afraid you're going to have to finish this." He paused. Mr. McCarthy looked up at the stars, who looked back on him with stern looks and glances that told him to press on with his mission. "Senor," Panchito said, putting the briefcase down and grabbing Joseph's hand, "thanks for having coffee with me." The rooster smiled, weakly and sorrowfully, as if the whole world were ending and this was the last person he would ever see. Joseph pulled away from the gesture and embraced his friend instead. "Keep the pot warm for me." Joseph said. He let go, slowly, perhaps it was his age, or perhaps he wanted to linger to the past.
"Where will you go?" Panchito asked, his eyes starting to slowly form tears. "Anyplace but here." Joseph said as he slowly walked away down the street that used to be so colorful, so lively, now stood dark and dead before him, and like everything else, a shell of former hope and glory.
Joseph didn't even bother to say goodbye, he didn't turn back, he didn't stop walking. He slowly advanced towards the gates, which squeaked in the slight wind and light sprinkling rain. Thunder, the ancient roar, a vessel of fear, darkness, and misery advanced across the sky. Joseph just kept walking.
Panchito looked on at his friend until he could no longer see him, and he was already missing him. The wind blew in his ears, telling him to earnestly find shelter before the storm comes. Thunder gave out his warning, and so Panchito quickly grabbed the briefcase, held it tightly against his chest, and ran inside the eerie Castle, which casted a dark, looming shadow, and spoke louder than the thunder, in a voice of businessmen.