Written for the Newsies Pape Selling Competition. Word Count: 1227. Prompts: Fried food.

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Hot.

Hot hot hot.

For the love of all that was good and holy, it was hot. The second Spot and Racetrack stepped out of the airport, it hit them like a wall. It was a wet, sticky heat, unlike that in New York, and immediately they felt sweaty and in need of a shower.

"This is why we don't leave New York," Spot grumbled, shoving his hair away from his forehead. Already it felt plastered to his head, and he'd wished he'd gotten it cut before they'd left.

"Ah, cheer up. It'll do you some good to get out of Brooklyn. You're going to the Happiest Place on Earth!" A bead of sweat dripped down Race's temple, but his silly smile was still pasted across his face.

"More like hottest place." Relief came from the taxi that would take them to the hotel, but the smell from the driver made it brief.

Screaming kids. Angry parents. Sweaty people. Fat, sweaty people. Employees with scary smiles. Two rats in clothes walking around. Fried food.

If this was the Happiest Place on Earth, Spot would hate to see what Hell looked like.

Alright, some of the food did smell pretty good. He sniffed twice, catching a whiff of funnel cakes. He'd have to get one of those.

"Ahh, look at it! Would you just look at it," cried Racetrack. He stopped in the middle of the gate with his hands on his hips, grinning from ear to ear. "Spot, I've dreamed about this my entire life."

"Get out of the way," was his only growled response from a man with five kids in perfect stair-steps behind them. He ran right through them, tugging the largest child by the sleeve.

Spot moved Racetrack out of the way and called after the man, "It's called birth control, pal!"

Down the little street loomed the castle, which seemed, in Spot's perfect opinion, entirely out of place amidst the turn of the century decor. Otherwise, the area was quite charming, with its dapper men in sharp bow ties and women with coiffed hair. The map told them it was Main Street, USA.

If there was a part of the park Spot was going to like, it would be this one. He was about to ask Race if he wanted to go in one of the shops when Race put a hand on his shoulder.

"Spot, who is that? Who is that?" he gasped, pointing down the street.

The object of his point was none other than a brunette lady clad in a white dress and hat trimmed in red and white spats. Spot looked at his friend incredulously. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, who is that woman?"

"You're kidding, right? You know who she is. You're at Disney World, you have to know who she is."

"Just tell me."

"It's Mary Poppins!" Spot shouted. "She's classic!"

"It's have to meet her."

Mary was stooped down hugging a little girl with close-cut hair and a similar white and red dress, which was donned with a Make-a-Wish button. "I don't think you can. It doesn't look like she's just greeting everyone."

Racetrack groaned, and Spot shrugged. "We're here for the week. There'll be plenty of time later."

At noon they got ice cream from a little shop on Main Street. No sooner had they sat down than a crowd of muscled young men, clad in suspenders and cabbie hats, appeared in the center of the street, flipping all over the place and singing something about a fine life. Spot and Racetrack only glanced around at other people, who seemed to be enjoying the performance.

"What was that about," Race asked when they'd dispersed.

"I think Disney has a new musical coming out. About newsies or something." Spot shrugged and focused on his ice cream.

"Newsies? As in newspaper boys?" When Spot nodded, Race snorted. "Oh, gee, like people will pay to see that."

"Alright. It says here that she frequents Main Street and the British pavilion in EPCOT."

Spot shook the water from his eyes and looked at his friend. They'd gone back to the hotel to wait out the hottest part of the day, and in the downtime had planned to swim. Spot chided himself for believing they would actually swim; he should have known better when Race brought the laptop with him.

"Racetrack, if you think those are going to be the only places I go this week, you're out of your mind. There are five parks, and we're going to all of them."

"I know, I know. But we've got to meet her."

"And do what? What's your plan then?"

"I don't know. I'll figure it out later."

Spot could only roll his eyes and dive underwater. If Racetrack had his way, he would drive Spot mad.

That, and Florida was too hot and sticky for his taste.

Almost three hours later, Spot was dragging Racetrack out of the United Kingdom pavilion. Three hours. That was almost as much time as they'd spent at Mexico, Norway, and Germany combined. They'd listened to the same British cover band twice—not that they were bad—and Race had eaten two things of fish and chips. It was time to go to Italy.

Spot got it. She was Mary Poppins, every child's dream nanny. She was the perfect lady, and whoever had been dressed as her that day had been remarkably pretty.

However, in the four days that they'd been there, Spot had come to a realization: Racetrack had absolutely no Disney knowledge. The only characters he'd been able to name had been Chip and Dale, and that was because he'd watched them with Spot when they were children. Yet for some reason, it had been Race's idea to come to Disney World.

Spot wasn't exactly complaining. His childhood had consisted of nothing but Disney movie after Disney movie. He knew every line from 101 Dalmatians to Wreck-It Ralph—not that he'd let anyone know that, of course—but he'd still never been to Disney World. And to constantly be explaining the characters and significance of everything to Racetrack was an abomination.

Racetrack whined the whole way because he still hadn't met Mary Poppins.

"Racetrack, even if she was here, you are not qualified to meet Mary."

Sunday evening they went to Magic Kingdom to watch the parade one last time. They bought their ice creams again and sat down on the curb of Main Street. The area of the park had really grown on Spot, how very homey and inviting the little turn of the century place was.

Racetrack licked his cone dejectedly. They were leaving in the morning, and despite all his searching, he hadn't met Mary Poppins.

Building up all the encouragement and friendliness he could, Spot took a deep breath. "Cheer up. Not meeting a character isn't the end of the world."

"Yeah, I know." Racetrack ducked his head and kicked at a pebble. "It's just...she was absolutely gorgeous, and she seemed so nice, holding that little girl."

"You can watch the movie when we get home." In his mind, Spot added, I have the Blu-ray Collector's Edition.

"But she-" he sighed heavily. "She was practically perfect."

Resisting the urge to laugh at the irony, Spot said, "There'll be more practically perfect girls."

"Says the guy who's never had a girlfr—yeah, there will be."

It took a while, but by the time the fireworks had started to light up the sky, Racetrack's frown had faded, and he smiled up at the sky. He smiled at the cast member who put Mickey ears on a little boy who had dropped his cookie. And he smiled as Minnie blew kisses at the people on the sidelines.

For all that Disney World really was—the heat, the agressive parents, and every overpriced item—Spot couldn't help but think it really was the Happiest Place on Earth.