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When in Rome . . .
A Thursday Prompt Story
© 2017 by Walter Reimer
WELCOME, read the sign over his head, in four different languages – English, French, Chinese and the scrolling native tongue. PASSPORT CONTROL THIS WAY.
Carl sighed and adjusted his carry-on bag’s strap, which was currently digging into his shoulder, picked up his suitcase and dutifully followed the arrows to join yet another line. The llama took off his gray and blue Louisville Racers ball cap and fanned himself as he waited for the queue to creep along. There were about ten available spaces at the table for incoming furs, and each spot had a three-person team of Customs officials.
Soon enough, about ten minutes or so, he was next in line, and he stepped over to the officer when the antelope beckoned to him. The ungulate smiled and said, “Your passport, please,” in accented English.
Carl matched the smile and gave the fellow his Canadian passport and visa papers. The antelope’s smile fled as he read over the information, occasionally glancing from the passport photograph to look at the llama’s face. The other two officers, both canine, busied themselves with searching his suitcase and his carry-on bag.
The antelope put the passport under a chip reader. “You are Carl Ferrara?” he asked, starting the ritual known to Customs agents and travelers all over the world.
“Yes.”
“Why are you here, business or pleasure?”
“Tourism, so I guess pleasure,” Carl replied with a smile. “But it could also be business. I’m doing an article for Archeology about the ruins in the north part of the country.”
The officer listened, ears swiveled forward, as he read the data on the passport’s chip, then reread the visa document. The two canine officers closed and zipped up his bags by the time the antelope gave the passport and paperwork back to Carl. “Enjoy your stay,” the man said.
“Thank you,” and the llama gathered up his bags and headed for the marked exit. He was slightly dreading what was coming next.
The terminal’s exit hall was filled with incoming travelers and noisy with conversation and laughter. Kids were running about with their mothers (and in some cases fathers or older siblings) in hot pursuit. Carl found a vacant spot and put his suitcases down, then started to undo his pants.
He felt very self-conscious as he shed his pants and underwear, folding them with as much decorum as he could before stuffing them into his carry-on bag. He knew about the nation’s custom, of course – he’d done his homework before leaving Vancouver, and like almost everyone else had laughed when the Prime Minister and the Viceroy had visited the country the previous year.
Carl steeled himself, warned himself not to look at any of the women in the hall, and gathered up his bags. He made his way out into the sunshine to the taxi rank, under the sign that read WELCOME TO BUMBY.
End.
A Thursday Prompt Story
© 2017 by Walter Reimer
WELCOME, read the sign over his head, in four different languages – English, French, Chinese and the scrolling native tongue. PASSPORT CONTROL THIS WAY.
Carl sighed and adjusted his carry-on bag’s strap, which was currently digging into his shoulder, picked up his suitcase and dutifully followed the arrows to join yet another line. The llama took off his gray and blue Louisville Racers ball cap and fanned himself as he waited for the queue to creep along. There were about ten available spaces at the table for incoming furs, and each spot had a three-person team of Customs officials.
Soon enough, about ten minutes or so, he was next in line, and he stepped over to the officer when the antelope beckoned to him. The ungulate smiled and said, “Your passport, please,” in accented English.
Carl matched the smile and gave the fellow his Canadian passport and visa papers. The antelope’s smile fled as he read over the information, occasionally glancing from the passport photograph to look at the llama’s face. The other two officers, both canine, busied themselves with searching his suitcase and his carry-on bag.
The antelope put the passport under a chip reader. “You are Carl Ferrara?” he asked, starting the ritual known to Customs agents and travelers all over the world.
“Yes.”
“Why are you here, business or pleasure?”
“Tourism, so I guess pleasure,” Carl replied with a smile. “But it could also be business. I’m doing an article for Archeology about the ruins in the north part of the country.”
The officer listened, ears swiveled forward, as he read the data on the passport’s chip, then reread the visa document. The two canine officers closed and zipped up his bags by the time the antelope gave the passport and paperwork back to Carl. “Enjoy your stay,” the man said.
“Thank you,” and the llama gathered up his bags and headed for the marked exit. He was slightly dreading what was coming next.
The terminal’s exit hall was filled with incoming travelers and noisy with conversation and laughter. Kids were running about with their mothers (and in some cases fathers or older siblings) in hot pursuit. Carl found a vacant spot and put his suitcases down, then started to undo his pants.
He felt very self-conscious as he shed his pants and underwear, folding them with as much decorum as he could before stuffing them into his carry-on bag. He knew about the nation’s custom, of course – he’d done his homework before leaving Vancouver, and like almost everyone else had laughed when the Prime Minister and the Viceroy had visited the country the previous year.
Carl steeled himself, warned himself not to look at any of the women in the hall, and gathered up his bags. He made his way out into the sunshine to the taxi rank, under the sign that read WELCOME TO BUMBY.
End.
Category Story / General Furry Art
Species Llama
Size 98 x 120px
File Size 34.2 kB
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