“Ah, the countryside,” Wallace said as he inhaled the fresh air of the Tokyo exurb where he and Gromit had decided to spend the day. It really was a lovely day—the sun was shining, brightly in a sky devoid of clouds save for an occasional stray cumulus, and there was a light wind to make sure that everything stayed at just the right temperature. In short, it was the perfect day for an outing. “I do believe that this is exactly what we needed. All that urbanisation, it can’t be good for the brain. Addles the mind, you see. Can’t think straight.”
Gromit looked up at his follicle-challenged friend with an expression on his face that suggested that the canine was not irritated by Wallace’s oh-so-very-English ramblings so much as he was amused. After all, the day was so nice that it made everything seem enjoyable, even the somewhat naïve statements of the human member of the virtuoso inventing team. In fact, their day had been simply wonderful so far, with the only down point being that they were, at the moment, hopelessly lost.
It had started when they decided to try finding a place to eat. It wouldn’t have much trouble to find an appropriate establishment—that’s what travel guides were for. But Wallace was still suffering from mozzarella withdrawal, and as a result, he decided to have a go at trying to find someplace where he could sink his choppers into his favorite dairy product. Unfortunately, Wallace’s skill at using his English/Japanese dictionary left much to be desired, which was why they were currently lost somewhere in the middle of some very scenic woods which Wallace had been certain was a shortcut to a marketplace “that could very well exist” where cheese may or may not have been sold. However, as the day wore on with no cheddar in sight, it was becoming apparent to Gromit that his friend was in danger of growing a bit, well, cheesed off. Not just because of the lack of access to cheese, but because Wallace’s current peckish state was threatening to evolve into outright hunger.
“We really should have thought to bring some nibbles to tide us over until lunch. If I’dve known it would take this long… Cor, what’s this?” Wallace had stopped in front of what looked to be the entryway to some sort of tunnel. Given its location, one would think it was abandoned, but the red brickwork looked quite new, and there was no overgrowth at all. “Well, this looks promising! I’m sure well find some sort of establishment through here.” The Englishman began moving towards the entrance.
His faithful companion, on the other hand, was a bit more reluctant. Gromit was no dummy—after all, he was the valedictorian of the Dogwarts University Class of ’89. His past adventures with Wallace had given him a rather keen sense of danger, and right now, it was telling him that something about that tunnel was a bit off.
Wallace, being Wallace, had no such danger sense at all. “What’s the matter, lad? It’s just a tunnel! I’m sure it leads back to civilisation. Now come on, we’ve not a moment to lose.” The worry on Gromit’s face was replaced by resignation as Wallace entered the tunnel. Gromit followed him, naturally. He may have had a keen sense of danger, but he was also a dog, and like many dogs, he was characterized by his loyalty, which often required him to get his best friend out of any scrapes he put himself in.
“Well now, this is what I call the countryside,” Wallace said as he and Gromit exited the tunnel. “Clean, fresh air… wide open spaces… totally free of all that excess urbanisation.” He inhaled deeply, letting the smell of grass imbue his nostrils with a pastoral nostalgia. “Yes indeed, this is the perfect place for an outing… though I’m not quite sure why they’d build such a nice tunnel only to have it go nowhere.”
Indeed, it seemed that this open expanse of grass was utterly free of any distinguishing features that would warrant the placement of an elaborate entryway. Wallace scanned the area, but he couldn’t find any—hang on. “What’s that?” Off in the distance there was a group of tents all clustered together. “Do you suppose that’s the marketplace we’ve been hearing about? What say we have a look, eh?” Gromit’s suspicion was still evident on his face, but he acquiesced—someone had to look after Wallace, right?
It didn’t take very long to reach the tents, which was a bit odd, as they’d seemed so far away when the pair had exited the tunnel. It did resemble a marketplace somewhat, but most marketplaces weren’t this elaborately decorated. “Maybe this is some sort of traditional Japanese festival,” Wallace theorized. “Either that, or this is the way the Japanese normally dress up their markets.” Gromit responded with a noncommittal shrug; at this point, the decorations were the last thing on his mind.
The various stands contained copious amounts of food for purchase—except that none of them listed any prices, and even stranger, none of them appeared to be staffed, though the fact that a great deal of dishes were steaming hot meant that somebody had to be around. “Hello!” Wallace shouted in an effort to get the attention of the stall employees whom he assumed had to exist. “Is anybody here?”
Wallace began thinking aloud as he continued meandering through the various stalls. “Well, now that’s a bit odd. One would think that folks would close their stalls down when there wasn’t anyone around to watch them; why, any ruffian could just come up and make off with their livelihood.” The Englishman paused, trying to think of an explanation for the unusually lax security at this marketplace, or festival, or whatever it was. “Do you suppose this is one of those interesting local customs we read about in the travel guide, Gromit? Gromit?” Wallace looked around, but couldn’t find his friend anywhere.
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(Posted Tue, 09 May 2006 06:49)
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