Visitors stay a few days, and that is enough, in loud and bright Terribly Awesome. Geese cry heavy metal anthems. Waterfalls drop in dub-step. Sunsets phase in and out. Dawn flashes and dusk strobes. The moon waxes and wanes in slo-motion and then hyper-speed. The river rushes in stop motion or glides so slowly that it can be walked upon. The bridges point skyward and pierce the ground on the other side. Buildings tower.
Every one floats and flies. They zoom through the air rising and falling.
“It’s a wonderfully, frighteningly, overwhelming place to visit,” said Miss Doe Friend.
Even Miss Emeline Traveler said, “I could not take much of it.”
“A weekend is plenty,” says the Guide. It’s good advice.
Visitors bring home loud, bright Terribly Awesome hoodies, shirts, and parachute pants, but then wear them once a year at most. They seem wildly out of place anywhere else.
Drumbeats resound when they are tapped on the shoulder or thumped on the chest.
The pants billow and let the wearer float a little, enough to reach candy hidden high on shelves.
The street Awesomely Terrible winds through the land. It wiggles this way and that.
“It’s almost impossible to find the post office or other services,” says Miss Doe Friend. “Quite disorienting. I was lucky Miss Emeline was with me.”
Workers, when they can be found, are efficient but flamboyant in dress and attitude.
“The person I asked for help made me laugh uproariously, but later I realized they had not been helpful at all,” said Miss Doe Friend.
Officials produce requested documents in a flurry from towers of drawers. Metallic confetti flies. But the documents have missing pages or have been signed by the wrong person.
“They are not particularly useful or helpful for all their flair,” says Miss Emeline.
Citizens of Terribly Awesome avoid the Awesomely Terrible street whenever they can.
“It’s best not to get caught up in the parade of bureaucracy,” says Chip Delago. “Get your stamps and move on!”
Comments
Post a Comment