what it might have looked like in marshmallow
The situation was dire, very very dire. The marshmallow coated the small town was showing just how nasty marshmallow truly is.
At first the population tried to dig their way out. The marshmallow stretched and rebounded, white rubber bands. Then some young kid suggested using fire to toast their way out. A good idea for a child, but marshmallow continued to burn past the yummy stage, and the town was barely saved from a raging wildfire by local firemen from helicopters,
The rain did not solve the problems either.
The top layers of the marshmallow became leathery, which seemed a “hurrah” moment. Unfortunately, only children were able to walk across the top.
What about getting food to each home? Children were dispatched pulling sleds across the tough layers, carrying basics to place on porches. Boxes were appreciated by everyone, even cranky Old Man Benson who lived alone.
The military was called in, with their scientists who finally discovered that liquid nitrogen would possibly freeze the marshmallow solid and could be chipped away.**
All residents were ordered to stay inside their houses, and cuddle close to the fireplace, with a crackling fire burning high. The helicopters flew around and over the town repeating this message many times.
All residents were ordered to stay inside their houses, and cuddle close to the fireplace, with a crackling fire burning high. The helicopters flew around and over the town repeating this message many times.
All townspeople stepped of onto the solidly frozen marshmallow and began chipping away at it with every sharp tool.
The military succeeded in clearing out the main thoroughfare and counting the citizens. All were accounted for, except for Old Man Harold Benson. Small, elfin Timmy climbed up the steeple to see if Benson .could be seen anywhere. The only evidence of Benson was ski mobiles trails across the crunchy top. Old Man Hinkle was a wizened scrawny guy; the hardened marshmallow top allowed him to escape the marshmallow-cursed town.
The military succeeded in clearing out the main thoroughfare and counting the citizens. All were accounted for, except for Old Man Harold Benson. Small, elfin Timmy climbed up the steeple to see if Benson .could be seen anywhere. The only evidence of Benson was ski mobiles trails across the crunchy top. Old Man Hinkle was a wizened scrawny guy; the hardened marshmallow top allowed him to escape the marshmallow-cursed town.
A letter had been left behind on the kitchen table: ”I’m outta here…Gone to ‘Vegas…”
P.S. I neglected to back-link the original story which inspired this follow up story:
P.S. I neglected to back-link the original story which inspired this follow up story:
**This doesn't work in reality, only in this story.
Go to: This may clear up any confusion about 'what the heck?'
