Mammal World, FL – I’ve been told that Mammal World was an amazing place, but I truly had no idea. It has its own ZIP code, police station, theme restaurants and an independent sewage system. It’s even got its own mayor: Edward the Elk. Well, he’s more of an honorary mayor. Didn’t see him sign a single bill or make any speeches. This might be due to Mammal World’s lack of any legislative body, but I’m not entirely sure Edward knows he’s the mayor.

The bone display was closed, so I ended up in the smoke-filled Zebra Bar & Grill. It’s supposed to be one of the theme restaurants, but the Grill portion of the name isn’t quite right. There’s no menu and they only have salted apricots with creamed rhubarb and celery salsa at the bar. A surprising number of Mammal World’s animals take their lunch hour here. Ronny, Mammal World’s lone Besson’s Unhorned Rhinoceros, was taking up a corner all by himself and going through several bottles of Bushmill’s.

The animal uniforms are lovely. Each beastly specimen wears a bright green bellhop’s hat, a green waistcoat with a golden watch and green leather shoes with white spats. Some wear pants as appropriate and all of the large cats have curved Arabian shoes with bells on the toes so they can’t sneak up and claw anyone. There was also an alligator on the premises, but no one wanted to talk about it. I got the feeling it was an embarrassment for Mammal World.

I met a nice guy at the water buffalo racing pavilion and we’re heading off to the Mammal World Airport Motel in a bit. More tomorrow!

Durnit County, EL – I wanted to attend the 199th meeting of the American Astronomical Society. It would be the first such meeting ever held in Elizabethia and I hoped to meet some hot stargazers. I got off at Durnit County station, a sprawling network of platforms, glass and steel. I’m a bit puzzled, because Durnit County has no attractions and smells funny.

Both taxis had already left for the day, so I headed down the road in the direction of the soy sauce factory where the convention was being held. Pretty soon I was lost as the road sort of fades into a mayonnaise field. I kept walking in what I thought was the right direction and after a couple of hours heard a car approaching.

To my surprise President Armstrong poked his head out of the stretched VolksWagen beetle asked me if I needed a lift. I hopped in the back, picking up the fez he dropped shouting out the window. The President was on his way back from dedicating a new, foot-activated drinking fountain at the County Courthouse. As the President finished the last page of a comic book. I asked him if he liked drinking fountains and, with a twinkle in his eye he replied that he preferred drinking beverages. We shared a bag of chips and he invited me to the White House to play horse shoes any time.

They were headed back to the train station, so I decided not to go to the AAS meeting after all. The train’s departing in a few minutes and I’m not sure if I’ll stop anywhere else before I hit Florida. Oh, I forgot to mention that the President loves butter and sardine corn chips. Can’t stop wolfing them down.

Roanoke, VA– It’s a town famous for one thing really; a brightly lit star that sits on top of a hill. I didn’t come here for mountains or even stars, I came to this moderately sized community because I had heard about a miracle.

It started last year when a statue of the Blessed Virgin Mary at the Our Lady of Nazareth Church began to taste exactly like purple Kool-Aid®. Local scientists took a piece of the statue and examined it with instruments, determining that it had not been dipped in purple Kool-Aid®. To the townspeople, it’s a miracle sent from God.

Belinda found me at the church and told me that she had hoped the statue would cure her painful corns. She is just one of the many faithful who continue to wait in long lines for a chance to lick the statue and taste the holy flavor of purple Kool-Aid®. Some have come from as far away as Blacksburg just to lick the purple Kool-Aid® statue. They are modern day pilgrims, each hoping that the taste of purple Kool-Aid® will heal their terrible afflictions.

I must say though, after licking the Virgin, I thought it tasted just like a statue. There didn’t seem to be any hint of purple Kool-Aid®. Back in the van, I licked the seat belt. For some reason, I swear it tasted like a red popsicle. A miracle? Maybe, I’m no theologian. But hey, if you think a statue tastes like purple Kool-Aid®, then lick that Virgin like there’s no tomorrow.

As for this pilgrim, she’s off to keep exploring. Maybe the next town will have a real miracle, like a chimpanzee with stigmata. Now that would be something.