You look over the selection of books in the great library, one particularly interesting one has a red cover.  But once you open it, you seem transported to an arena, and facing a gigantic scorpion.  You try to reason with it, and it laughs.  You try to run, and it bounds ahead of you.  You try to fight, and it spears you.

It occurs to you as you hang from its talon on its tail that you could have chosen another book, but in the end, you would probably have found yourself here anyways.

And then things fade at the edges....
(Thanks to PT for writing this exit of the other world.)
============================================================================

"Tornad Visits Toonington"

You look around your invirontment, naturally feeling the place where you were stabbed by the scorpion.  Something was definately strange about this place, but you couldn't quite place it.  Everything either seemed too brightened by the sun overhead or too dark by the shadows that covered it.  For the moment, you stood in the middle of a road, confused.  There are various apartments and other buildings along the sides of the street, all looking strange to you.  A feeling in your gut tells you that you shouldn't be there, but that you have no choice in the matter anyways.

A street... I'm in a street in the middle of the daytime?!? Looking rapidly both ways for oncoming vehicles, I follow my first instinct... head for the shadows! And avoid becoming roadkill on the way.

You switfly meet the shadows and stay in it, finding yourself hiding and collecting your thoughts in an alleyway.  As you're hiding there, you hear someone walking down the street calmly and he passes by your hiding place, not noticing you.  Like everything else, this man had a gleam to his hair and it seemed TOO straight to be natural.  The figures of his chin were almost sharp it seemed.  He continued on walking, looking forward and seemed as if he needed to be somewhere.

I made a soft, wuffing sound to myself, watching the man go by. All that horrible brightness, and now such astonishing cleaniness. What kind of place had I gotten myself into now? My nostrils flare, twitching as I inhale, concentrating on trying to identify the scents around me.

It shouldn't hurt to explore a bit. Maybe I'll find a nice dim shop to stay in for a bit, or a patch of park with shady trees. But knowing how my life had been the last few days, I'd probably find a hardware store with frilly pink curtains and discover the streetsigns read "Danny," I thought to myself.

Moving carefully in the shadows (to avoid stepping on anything slippery or bumping into someone else), I go to one end of the alley and peer out at what's around nearby, then go to the other end and do the same, seeing what is around and whether I'm going to need to worry about local anti-homeless laws.

For a while, you look both ways of the alley and find both sides quite the same as everything you'd already seen.  The bright areas were overly bright and seemed almost new while things that seemed to have age had too many characteristics showing that.  After about half an hour, you start to hear noises of music and it grows louder.  It comes from the direction the man was going towards earlier and on the road you were originally on.

Still flinching from the excessive light, despite my dark glasses - drat it, I knew I should have gotten tinted lenses instead of this polarized crap Sam's Club was pushing - I watch the now musical street from the relative safety of the shadows.

What kind of musical genre or style does it seem to be? In addition to the typical classical, rock & roll, country, jazz, and opera of the Western world, I'm also somewhat familiar with a number of non-western musical traditions.

What do the buildings around seem to be? Shops? Houses? A school? Offices? Tepees? Tents?

How was the strangely clean (my take on it) man who passed before dressed?

The music seems to be a classic marching music.  It sounds like an average parade that isn't trying special at all really to sound special.  It is your average heroic music, but not too heroic.  The buildings surrounding you are all named different things, a tattoo parlor and some apartments.  Other than that, you see a small deli nearby on your side of the road.

Upon noticing the deli, my attention focuses upon it. A place to get meat! But what kind of money did they use here? That had been a problem in the place with the big candle in the sky. I'd been seriously considering living as a beggar there for a while, and my first impressions here was that I was stuck homeless in a horribly bright place.

If there was a nice shady patch by the deli, I bolt over into it, otherwise I remain in the shelter of the alley peering out.

Periodically I look towards the music, waiting to see what the parade is like. Maybe there'd be some amusing clowns, or the logos of local (major?) companies sponsoring things that I could try looking up later. Assuming phone directories existed here. Hmm.

Soon enough, the parade did arrive.  Tornad stayed in 'his' alley, peering out as they approached.  The front row were all dressed alike, and looked so in unison.  Only upon their closer approach did he finally notice that they were all the same.  Every feature on their face was the same.  They had the same color hair and the same slightly pointed nose.  They were all wearing a red marching outfit.

Everyone, even the spectators in the crowd following along the sidewalk, had the same hair and appearance as others.  They were brightly colored, but Tornad couldn't place where he could have seen it all before.

^{http://www.gamingoutpost.com/d....php?showtopic=82752}
They march past you on the brightly lit street under the brilliant sun, and with shock you realize that each member of the band is an identical twin to every other member of the band. They march past, playing "The Stars and Stripes Forever" very loudly. You're not sure what to expect. Half of you thinks they are going to suddenly whirl, take off their faces, and start advancing as killer robots to slay you.

But then up the street you see a lone banana peel in the street.

They march.

They march some more.

The leader hits the peel with his foot, and lands on his back. The next row trips over him, hits the peel,a nd piles up. The process repeats until their is a stack twenty feet high of band members, and one person is hanging by his belly from the inside of his drum.
This message was last updated by the GM at 16:51, Fri 19 May 2006.

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I blink, impressed by their coordination. That stunt must have taken a lot of practice to pull off so smoothly.

Between their identical appearances, the "stunt", and the odd setting, I decide that I'm probably on some movie set somewhere. From the safety of the shadows, I try to spot any cameras, the director, hidden stage exits, etc., not wanting to mess up the (presumed) filming going on.
This message was last updated by the GM at 16:52, Fri 19 May 2006.

^{http://www.gamingoutpost.com/d....php?showtopic=82752}
You don't spot any cameras or directors or the like.

They get themselves up, reform precisely. The leader tosses the banana peel high over his shoulder. They march on.

A shadow falls on you.

You look up. The banana peel lands on your face.

PT
This message was last updated by the GM at 16:52, Fri 19 May 2006.

^{http://www.gamingoutpost.com/d....php?showtopic=82752}
With a startled yip, I shake my head hard trying to fling the peel off, pawing at it with both hands if necessary.

I bolt for the deli once free of the peel that's been who-knows-where, trying to find someplace shady on this side of the street to hide in, then deciding that being inside the deli might be safer. Who knows what these strange, all-alike folks are going to think, seeing someone quite different? At least inside I'd only have to worry about patrons (or so I assume), and not a mob of spectators trying to play Pop Goes the Werewolf with me.
This message was last updated by the GM at 16:52, Fri 19 May 2006.

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It flies off. Lands on the street, and a man in a tophat walks around the corner, and hits the peel, and hits the ground with a startled yelp. Before he looks around, you're already gone.

The deli looks 1950's ish, with everyone in it dressed in neat '50's era clothing, and inside, you see most of the young guys look alike in face and build, but they have different clothes on, and they call each other different names.

And there's a humanoid chicken sitting at a bar stool talking to the waitress who is dressed in pink, and chewing gum emphatically.

PT
This message was last updated by the GM at 16:53, Fri 19 May 2006.

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The young men don't especially surprise me, not after seeing the spectators, but a gum-chewing humanoid chicken does. I make a mental note in my head as I slink around tables trying to find someplace shady, a note not to ask for any chicken dishes around here. Mustn't eat people, that's not right. The combined weirdnesses of this place cause a brief flashback, a memory of a Beany & Cecil episode involving a golden menu and giant waitress-priestesses worshipping The Great Customer.

If there are any bulletin boards with messages on them, or even chalkboards, I'll stop briefly to sniff at them and read what's there before resuming seeking a not-so-bright place (perhaps under an unoccupied table) to spare my sensitive eyes the pain.

Does the chicken appear to be male or female?
What do the prices on the food look like?
Other than the waitress and perhaps the chicken, have I seen any women in this world yet?
Does anyone else in this deli besides me have facial hair (I have a full beard)? I assume from the previous chin descrption that everyone in the parade and among the spectators were clean-shaven.
This message was last updated by the GM at 16:53, Fri 19 May 2006.

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Chalkboard advertises lemon pie. Bulletin board has nothing on it except hanging from a pin on a string, a small red bull made of some metal.

The chicken..seems to be male. Its covered, but its whole attitude is very masculine.

The prices are either one dollar or one fifty for most things, except for the steak which is ten dollars.

No woman so far other than the waitress.

You're the only one with a beard you've seen.

The others in the cafeteria look at you as you scuttle under a table. And then they shrug as one, and go back to their food.

PT
This message was last updated by the GM at 16:53, Fri 19 May 2006.

From my (not so hidden) hiding place under the table, I watch what I can of the parade outside, listen to what's being discussed, and wonder where the heck I am.

The parade's already passed, so you don't see them anymore.  You can still hear the marching band playing music, though the noise is getting softer with distance.  At that, as you look around the deli, you find that someone is reading a newspaper.  The chicken-man pulls out a pair of glasses and puts a newspaper on the counter as he sits down on one of the barstools.

He looks like your average person checking out the news, almost indifferent to it.

OOC:  I'm sorry that it took me so long to do this.
This message was last edited by the GM at 15:56, Fri 26 May 2006.