You have decided to venture outside? Well, you'd better tiptoe your way around the prostrate garden rake, sidestep the banana skin, hop over the sink hole, slalom through the dog turds, and cross the street to avoid walking under that ladder. If driving, beware an elephant stampede of traffic on the highway so stick to the back roads whenever feasible. You can try cycling but there are so many other riders on the bike path you'll disappear into this year's Tour de France trailing pack if you're not careful. Hot-air ballooning is always an option, of course, but you only want to go downtown for forty minutes, not around the world in eighty days. If only there was a terrible storm that flooded the town, then you could commute back and forth in a canoe. But is the pleasure of rowing merrily, merrily down the stream worth ten feet of water in your basement. I guess not.
So wearing a blazer and slacks, jaunty cap on my head and parasol in hand, I pedal a penny-farthing down the street like a character from The Prisoner who forgot to escape. "Let me show you around the village, Number Six." Here's where the corner store used to be. These days it's a Capital One bank and cafe. And this was the site of the old VFW, now a condominium tower. And remember dear old Luigi's quaint storefront ristorante? The family sold up and the space is currently a Chipotle Mexican Grill. "Be seeing you."
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