Challenge #01517-D056: A Strange Land
The past is another country. -- Knitnan
Pam walked around the corner into another world. At least, that was what she thought to begin with. The very air smelled different. Disgusting, in its own way. None of the buildings were familiar. And everyone was dressed really weird. And everyone was staring at her. Pam clung to her purse and tried to be discreet in digging out her self-defense stuff. It had, of course, settled to the very bottom of her bag.
She flinched away from someone approaching on her left. It was a man with a huge jacket and an honest face. "You're all right, now, ma'am," he said in a keep-calm tone of voice. "We're going to get you somewhere safe and you can talk all about it, okay?"
They thought she was underdressed? What? But she was wearing the perfect outfit. Jeggings and a bikini top with a cut-down, loose wife-beater with a glittery "Cheeky" written across the front. But then again, everyone was dressed like they were all going to this super-formal event. Of the women she saw, none of them had a skirt above their calves, let alone their knees. None of them had an exposed elbow. And most of them were wearing pearls.
Pam let the man put the jacket around her and meekly followed to what had to be some kind of police station. The uniforms were there, but... the air was a miasma of cigarette smoke and a clatter of typewriters. Big, huge, black typewriters that dominated the majority of the desks in the station.
She was herded into a room where there was at least some relief from the smoke. Until an officer came in and lit two cigarettes and offered her one.
"Euw, gross. No," she said. "Can you not do that in here?"
"Look, doll," said the officer. "I don't really grok your lingo, and your threads scramble my noggin. So what's the skinny?"
"Uuuhhhh..." said Pam. "Can I get that again in real words?"
It didn't go well. And it dragged on for hours. She didn't understand them, and they didn't understand her. Until, close to nine in the evening, one of the detectives' wives arrived with a change of clothes and the offer of a spare room. Apparently, Pam hadn't officially broken any laws.
The clothes were right out of I Love Lucy. The underpants were practically a bedsheet. Pam wore them over her existing briefs. The bra needed some adjusting from the wife to even halfway work on her.
"You're so skinny," said the wife, who was apparently Mrs Paul Schmidt. "Didn't they feed you, where you came from?"
Oh. Right. Everyone here was beefy. "Oh, that's because I'm a vegan," said Pam. "It's healthier and better for the environment."
"Say what?"
Pam tried to explain. Mrs Schmidt boggled and looked absolutely horrified. "All we have is beans and carrots. You can't feed a body on beans and carrots."
"No worries," said Pam. "We'll just pop by the nearest organic market and pick up some zucchinis, avocado, rocket, asparagus, kale, spinach and coconut oil. I can cook my own stuff, I don't want to impose and all." Now that she had her purse back, she dug out her phone. "Do you guys have a paypal? What's your rental?"
"Um," said Mrs Schmidt. "I only understood some of those words...? I don't think I speak Vegan. It's like a dialect, right?" She blushed and giggled. "I watch some PBS. I learned a few things."
Things only got worse from there. Pam may have accidentally started the sexual revolution a few years earlier than previously. And that was all before she realised that she'd landed in the 1950's. Or encountered an aspic salad.
The past is another country. They all talk strangely, the customs are vastly different, and you can't really trust the food or the water.
[ Image (c) Can Stock Photo / sorsillo]
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