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The Many Vacation Packages of Kartrina Resort
The next day, we ventured to Grosso Rico, where Doodlin' Davey was shown on the
monitors inside Playful Peasgood's trailer. As we unloaded our cargo necessary
for the capture of the suspect, Rompin' Rachel stopped and read a sign that
stated in blue:
DUE TO THE GRAFFITI INCIDENT IN OTHER PARTS OF KARTRINA AND ALSO THE DEATH OF AN
IMPORTANT MAN IN THE UNITED STATES, GROSSO RICO IS NOW CLOSED UNTIL FURTHER
"Sorry, guys," Rompin' Rachel sighed, "We have to sit this one out y'all because
they're commemorating the fallen Gipper."
"You mean we'll have to abort this adventure and let the ComMedia Della Artesia
go out of business," Playful Peasgood asked, "What if ALL of Ovationia renovates
into a vast housing community?"
"I think she's right, people," Cherry Plucker stated, "We better go home."
"Wait," Hans interrupted, "Park personnel said that the park is open to all of
us so we can track down that amateur Warhol."
"Fine," Rompin' Rachel snorted, "Everyone finish unloading and let's go."
As we passed through the entry gates, we found this park empty, but full of
sparkle in its appearance. It was filled with ancient ruins, emerald jungles,
mystic whangdoodles, and lustrous rivers. Moss-draped carcasses of castles and
quarried stone houses adorn the numinous, but murky atmosphere of the park. It
was filled with weeping willows, cypresses in shades of green, moss-draped oaks
and gingkoes. It seems as if the southeastern United States and tropical parts
of Latin America integrated their styles together. It was a theme park teeming
with all the flora and fauna that bedecks all the features in it.
I understand that the graffiti incident was not only why all of Grosso Rico
closed down; it was a tragedy of our fortieth President, Ronald Wilson Reagan. I
read in many bereavement-coping books that it is difficult to re-open a park to
the public a few days after someone, like Reagan, has been led into the final
sunset of his or her life. However, the attractions would have to kneel and pray
in reverence at a time like this and all the flags were at half-staff at the
park entrance. The Brandenburg Boppers, Hans, Kyle, Mr. M, and I encountered
many forms of the so-called "Italian Hymn" written in bold colors on the Plaza
"Does that line stating 'Come, Thou almighty King' familiar to you, child?"
inquired Rompin' Rachel.
"Of course, Rompin' Rachel; I arranged this hymn recently for flute, piano,
reeds, horns and choir." I answered.
"It sure seems like the hymn I sang in church last Sunday." she said, puzzled.
"Hey, ev'ryone," called 'Soonist Sally, "That Davey disappeared through the
walls of a ballroom across from us."
"We better move on," Playful Peasgood said, "He might trick us there because he
would transform beauty into havoc."
As we approached the ballroom, which was part of an abandoned but placid palace,
we went inside and observed the ornamental details that gild it. It seems as if
the quote about not determining the book from its cover was embedded in the
walls of it. We went to the outsized dance floor of marble and we overlooked a
stage with a string quartet that involves a purple tyrannosaurs rex and three
men. The ballroom was packed to the brim with hubbub and attendees of a drug
prevention ball. We noticed that the party's and my garments were immediately
transformed into the breed of attire used for formal celebrations. We're under a
canopy of chandeliers, ceiling frescos, classical music, and elegance.
"Why are we wearing frilly gear, y'all," Cherry Plucker asked, "and what is that
Barney doing here with a cello?"
"Golly," 'Soonist Sally asked, "Why would he play a gig with two violinists and
"Why would someone, who is a disgraceful T-rex with a green belly, perform in
such a formal function," Playful Peasgood inquired mockingly, "In addition, why
are we in formal dresses and tuxedos?"
"He wants to entertain the gala attendees with his string quartet," Rompin'
Rachel said, "Which features the big, fat, purple, immature…"
"Pretend we don't know Barney in this gala, you hear?" Kitty Arfken interrupted
as she covers the nearly swearing mouth of Rompin' Rachel's.
"Kitty," I said, "That's exactly what I saw in my dream several nights ago."
"Looks like your dream came true, child." Kitty Arfken said as she faced me.
After we observed the hustle and bustle going on in the gala, we saw three
couples waltzing around and doing some balletic movements. After some five
minutes of this, two amateur ballerinas joined in on pointe. The music was
widely known as the "Artists' Life" and it was one of the most enchanting
waltzes fresh from Vienna. Like the string quartet, the attendees, and the rest
of the ballroom, they were included in my dream several nights ago.
"What do you think, Miss Forte," Playful Peasgood asked as she holds her video
camera, "would this ballet number be suitable for the New Year's concert in
"Most likely," I answered, "I would want some Russian choreographer to recreate
what we're seeing."
"Holy Handel," she gasped as if she was in a wedding, "it's noteworthy of
performing it in front of spectators and the music is a touching Strauss waltz.
All we need are adult ballet partners wearing Viennese waltzing garb with high
heels for the women, triple the amount of those amateurs on pointe, and children
on the first grade of ballet school."
"Sounds reasonable, doesn't it?" I asked.
"It actually does sound like a grand idea!" Playful Peasgood exclaimed.
All the modishness of the ballet dancing by the three couples and the two middle
school-aged dancers were intruded by the entrance of Doodlin' Davey who went
through the wall of one of the marble colonnades. He started to draw on the
walls of the ballroom and he disappeared in an instant. Playful Peasgood pressed
stop on her camcorder and she told us to retreat back to her trailer. We
recoiled out of the park and we played the DVD of what happened in the ballroom
at Grosso Rico in the trailer, which was now parked in a campground near it. We
said our evening vigil and we drifted off to slumberland afterwards.
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