Recently, I’ve been noticing something strange. Everytime I walk past the colorful mural that decorates the side of Thayer’s CVS, I suddenly find myself in an alternate dimension. Just as the tornado scooped up Dorothy and transported her to Oz, the mural sucks me away with the force of a particularly aggressive vacuum.
Take last Tuesday for instance. I desperately needed to replenish my shampoo supply, and ventured to CVS to restock. Suddenly, I felt an inexplicable force pulling me out of this world and into another. There I was again, flying through a vortex, yelling more intensely than my uncle Mike on the Air and Space Museum’s flight simulator.
Intestines twisting like the stripes on a barber’s pole, I landed rather abruptly in a strange, empty parking lot. Colorful Dr. Seuss-esque flowers peeked through the cracks in the pavement, and plastic take-out bags floated in the air. Well, shoot. Here I was again. Suddenly, a fanfare of trumpets sounded in the distance, announcing the imminent arrival of Mayor Peabody, who was of course the local big shot. He tipped his top hat towards me and delicately patted his protuberant belly.
“Howdy there! I see you’ve managed to land in our sleepy town yet again.” He was right, going to CVS is never simple. He lowered his monocle, looking me in the eye as he spoke. Was Mayor Peabody perhaps related to Mr. Peanut? The resemblance was uncanny.
As I dusted myself off, the townsfolk, all dressed in 18th century dutch garments, approached me in wonder. I’m sure you guys have all experienced this too, right? I definitely can’t be alone in this. One woman, carrying a butter churn and a freshly-born baby, inspected my 21st century wardrobe.
“What is this I see? She wears pants like a man!” Hearing this, both the cobbler and butcher fainted in surprise.
“Now, now,” said Mayor Peabody, “let us not overwhelm the poor lady. It is up to us to show her some genuine hospitality.” I was led through the parking lot, stumbling over a littering of bottles and cans. The bottoms of the women’s colonial dresses trailed in the grime. I checked the time. I had class in 25 minutes. It really had to be a quick visit this time. They sat me down on plastic crates in front of a small, curtained stage. This is normal, right? Large, two dimension trees surrounded us and several chickens pecked at the ground around our feet. Yes, it was clear, they intended to entertain me with a puppet show yet again. What absurdity! In an effort to avoid an indefinitely long showcase, I stood up and began to run, which was of course made easier by my flexible pant legs.
“Hold on just a minute, young lady!” Called Mayor Peabody, disappointed by my abrupt exit. But I didn’t turn back. I ran like I had just indulged in the restorative powers of 5 Hour Energy. And, as I ran, my body began to slowly ascend like a plane taking off from a runway. I was carried back, in violent, swirling circles to the sidewalk just outside of CVS.
Quite frankly, these surprise visits to alternate dimensions have become an Inconvenience. I’m sure you all definitely know what I mean, right? It’s time we put a stop to this nonsense! I’ve been unable to go to CVS for the last 3 months, and my professors are definitely beginning to think that I’m an irresponsible, class-skipping delinquent. All I know is that I still really need shampoo.
Image via Sara Caskey, and via.