Welcome to the safe and sane plains of Armadillo Puddle. A quiet, plaintive place. Once called Maidsville until renamed by our dearly deceased Mayor Ricks. Our history is fairly simple; we have a small little city with a main street; a fine diner owned by Miss Lucinda Pops, a fine lady by nature. We also have an exquisite ice cream factory, the main source of the town's economy. Thirty-two flavors! Plus ham and cheese, our newest flavor in the works. Mister Pibb, our local ice cream expert, (he also drives the shiny truck, y'know!), says it's gonna be swell!
The one chink in our pleasant lifestyle is the crazy lady that lives high on the upper part of Maiden's Peak. She's scary--on some warm nights she'll ring your doorbell and run away really fast! But aside from that and the scary kid that lights things on fire.
Things here are peaceful as pie~
People in Armadillo Puddle say I'm insane; I'm a nut; a kook; clocks in my head; I'm crazy they say! I'm not often allowed out of the house. My roommate (who people call my "caretaker" behind our backs) usually prefers us to stay in and read or listen to music or whatever dear Justin Carowack pleases. I go out on important days, of course, like when Mayor Ted Ricks decided to rename Maidsville to "Armadillo Puddle," or for Mayor Ted Ricks' funeral . . . they served ice cream. I like Creamsicles. I give Creamsicles to the sweet girl that visits me.
I swore that armadillos came outta that puddle, too.
I'm Beez, I'm seven! I live next door to the naughty boy, Johnny C., who likes to burn things. I dun like to burn things, but he's the only kid by me to play with for miles. He dared me once to go see Crazy Lady Sho. He said he'd give me a nifty pink bouncy ball (pink is my favorite) if I did. I went. I thought I would die. They say she eats bugs. But she's actually nice. She does eat bugs, but she's nice nonetheless, and she gives me Creamsicles. Today, I'm gonna show her my new pink ball and we'll laugh about the funny way Lenore acted at Mayor Ricks' funeral.
I'm the principal of the school . . . it would be a hard job if there were more than twenty children and teens in Armadillo Puddle. I take care of problems, like when Johnny C. sets fire to things, or when Crazy Lady Sho visits to play with Beez Renroid. The hardest part is to explain to the children, and the hardest thing I've ever had to explain was why the most beloved mayor, Ted Ricks, was just ran over by the ice cream truck right in front of the playground. Also, I had to explain that when you die you aren't always covered in ice cream, no matter how nifty they think it would be. Then you have to explain that the mayor was a blind drunk, that's why he couldn't see the lumbering vehicle. Yes, an easy job. That's why I moved out here, for the ease . . . and for that other reason, which is--
Shoot, Johnny set fire to the toilet again.
I love my job; an ice cream man. I drive a nice, big, colorful truck. I have piles of ice cream. I bring joy to all the children. And I have an excuse to wear a top hat and dress in faerie wings. I love it! Mr. Pibb loves it, I do!
But no one wants to buy ice cream from the truck that ran over the mayor . . . Mr. Pibb needs to find a new job that will allow me to wear faerie wings . . .
I do not know why I even moved out here. I guess it was because I liked the name of the town, Maidsville. Then that damned drunk Ted Ricks renamed it to Armadillo Puddle because of his hallucinations. We have little terror kids that light my diner chairs on fire, or bounce pink balls off my shelves, spilling sugar and salt and pepper all over. People that laugh at the living, guys in faerie wings, ladies that are crying all the time, and don't get me started about that purple haired crazy lady and her caretaker! All walk in plain as day and leave my beautiful diner a mess.
I would move out of wretched Armadillo Puddle if it weren't for one thing.
Johnny C. set fire to my car and I'm not desperate enough to leave to hitch a ride. So sad.
I am the care taker of a girl. She is special, of that there is no mistake. You might even be inclined to say she's crazy, wacky as every purple hair on her head. I walk the house with its pad-studded walls. She, named Sho, whoops as she hears my footsteps. The townspeople deem her as dangerous, and from what I've had to work with . . . .
Hey, Sho! Come back here!!!
No one knows her name, or her address, or if she even knows anyone buried in the cemetary. But every day she sits and sniffles, mourning every buried corpse, every mossy marker, crying for those already dead. Or maybe those who will be someday.
They brought me the body of the good Mayor Ted Ricks. Today the mayor had been run down like a jackrabbit in the road, hit by an ice cream truck. Poor, beloved mayor. His remains were smeared with creamsicle--you might say he was cremated!! Hahahahahah~ohhh. Sorry if my humor is somewhat unamusing. In its morbid fashion, it keeps me amused in this line of work. Haha oh the living.....
They told me not to use the magnifying glass on the ants . . . but I did anyway . . . and I enjoyed it so much. The ants final screams as they slipped into oblivion! Those shallow heartless insects! I enjoyed their demise! Then I dared Beez to go to that crazy lady's house . . . her demise will be just as sweet.
I used to run the town see~hic~and I lean heavily on my reputation as well as the bottle~hic~but I swear by my dignity as an official that when I named this fair wasteland there were armadillos coming out of that puddle~hic~but now I cashed my eternal paycheck when ole Walter Pibb's tire treads called my number~hic~so off I float to an uncertain afterlife, cursing the names of Creamsicle and Eskimo Pie~hic~