"I'm sorry, there are no returns on purchased tickets." The courtesy information kiosk spoke in a cheery voice. Mindy slapped the side of it.
"Whad'ya think it would say?"
Mindy turned to see a costumed character, a smiling panda specifically, staring at her with a two-foot grin.
"Do you work here?" she asked the panda.
"No. I live here like you," said the man behind the polyester fur.
Mindy exhaled her frustration and turned away. The fantasy castle rose up in the distance and she cursed it. There was no way into it--a broken promise of false advertising, and she suspected it housed the fusion plant that kept the park operational twenty-four seven.
"Don't you like it here?" asked the panda. "You can be anything you want and do anything you want."
"It's limited," she said. "There are six hundred and twelve rides. I've been on all of them more times than I care to count. There are eighty-nine restaurants and I've sampled all the dishes. There are thirty-six themed hotels, and I've played pirate, princess, and creature to exhaustion. I am bored, I am done, and I if I knew this was all that my entire savings could buy, I would not have bothered."
The panda stared at her, scratched and itch on his abdomen, then turned and walked away. Then she punched the screen of the courtesy information kiosk. The screen flexed and displayed a brief rainbow of colors, but her knuckles pulsed and throbbed and she clutched her hand between her knees.
"This kiosk is for the convenience of park guests. Please do not molest the kiosk," it chirped, "you may injure yourself."
Mindy kicked it twice. She looked up into the geodesically stenciled sky and with her fists skyward cried out, "I want a refund!"