Bizarroville has become an alternate reality where I can dump stupid ideas and watch them come to life. It has been wonderful to watch what boredom produces when it is well groomed.

I certainly hope that you share with me the fascination for the bizarre, eccentric, weird, queer and unexpected. Join me in the adventures posed by my boredom, and experience what the world could be like if I was in charge (this does not mean it will be to yours or my liking)

So hop on! And spend a nice afternoon with me, here in Bizarroville. 

Kind regards,

The incredibly bored author. 

Let's start with a story, because, we all like stories, don't we?

Shall we start with Adam? The man who jumped so high he lost his sense of smell? Or Jenna? The lady that keeps a cow as a house pet and dairy dispenser in the kitchen?

No. I think we shall start with the story of a french lady with ridiculously red hair. I mean, it was so red it glowed. And the thing is, this french lady had a lot of money. And I do mean a lot. She loved going to horse races, and since she had a lot of money, she would buy front seats (I know, this is very odd, usually people with money buy seats in horse races at the very top, where they can see the whole track). You see, this woman loved to feel the race up close. No matter how fancy and fixed up she was, she loved being down there and getting grime in herself, just to see the horses up close.

The problem was, that given her ridiculously red hair, most of the horses got scared whenever they saw her. They seriously thought that the stands were on fire and that they had to get their riders to safety as fast as posible. Like, no joke, they seriously thought that. So whenever this rich french lady with ridiculously red hair went to a horse race, the horses would turn tail and run back to the stables as fast as posible. Which was a real down turner for her, because she loved horse races.

So, like one day, the manager of the horse races invited her up to the highest seats, so that she could see a complete race, and the horses wouldn't get scared. 

"Madame Olive," he said to her as he moved his gorgeous black moustache around, "I would like to invite you to the booth for the next race. I am sure it'll be an experience that you'll enjoy. And my horses too, of course." he added under his breath.

The french lady with ridiculously red hair accepted, and went to watch a race from the booth. However, she ended up hating the booth. It was like being in a restaurant with a very bad quality TV channel of the race. And the french lady with the ridiculously red hair hated bad quality. I mean, she like had to use binoculars to be able to see the horses! And she couldn't even feel their sweat.

After the race, the lady with the ridiculously red hair, feeling as though she'd been ripped off, went to the hair saloon to see if her mood would brighten up a bit (because that's like what rich french women with ridiculously red hair do when they're upset) and, being a woman, she told all of her problems to her stylist, Ferdinand. Ferdinand clicked his lips and swayed his hips and clipped on some hair clips. 

"Girl, what you need is a new hairdo! It is the most effective way to solve any problem that comes up. You just leave it to Ferdinand, and I'll fix you up for life hun."

Madame Olive agreed with Ferdinand, because, who in the world would dare to fight with the reasoning of the most prestigious stylist in the Americas.

Ferdinand turned Madame Olive away from the mirror, and struggled with her hair for over three hours. You see, her hair wasn't only ridiculously red, it was also extremely curly and abundantly abundant. And so, Ferdinand grunted and heaved and puffed and wheezed while beautiful female assistants dressed in white cleaned the sweat off his forehead and handed him the tools he requested. At last, Ferdinand finished, and stood apart to admire his work on Madame Olive.

"OMG, girl you look just wonderful! I have to admit, this might be one of my best works, hmm-mm" he nodded and snapped his fingers.

Madame Olive, anxious, turned around in her chair, and found something marvellous. Ferdinand had reduced the extreme volume in her hair, and had also dyed it! It was now a plain brown with a slight tinge of orange, something that would go so unnoticed in the horse races!

"Ooh lala Ferdinand! Merci beaucoup! Oh it is marrrvelous Ferdinand! I absolutely adorre it!" She said with a thick french accent.

"Oh I knew you'd love it! Now go get those horses girl!"

After paying the exorbitant hair saloon tab without even blinking twice, Madame Olive went straight to the hippodrome to catch the afternoon race. She was able to watch it front row, feel the horses' sweat on her, and enjoy a race without incident. Except of course, that fight with her husband. He'd loved her ridiculously red hair, and was extremely disgusted that she'd dyed it. But that, of course, is another story for another time.

As soon as he sat down the ducks in the pond hurried out and gathered around his feet. They squabbled and flicked their tails and quacked with one another. If you listened really carefully, you might've just about heard what they were saying. 

"Ooh he's finally here, quack! I've been waiting all morning for this." Said a brown and green one.

"Yes, me too! He's late, quack though, isn't he? Oh I hope the bread hasn't gone stale, quack!" Replied a green and brown one. 

A similar duck came near, and, with his mouth full, joined in the conversation.

"And there he goes again, quack! Doing those weird sounds people do. I swear that if he'd just shut up, we could get some bread a bit quicker."

"Blah blah bluh blah blah blah bluh bleh blaaah blah blah. Blah blah blah blah bloh blih blah blaah." The old man was sniffing while he made those weird sounds, and he took out a handkerchief to wipe some tears. The three ducks that had been talking just looked at him, chewing while they exchanged discreet glances with one another.

"I swear quack, he gets weirder every day," said the brown and green one.

"I agree," replied the similar one. "Although, quack, the bread does seem to be more abundant when he drops water from his eyes."

"Then we must agree that it is a good thing, and that he feels even more generous than usual, quack!" said the green and brown one.

"I concur, quack!" said the brown and green one.

"Quack that, sir!" said the similar one.

With that they finished their conversation and went on chewing their bread. They were already wondering if the old woman in a pink dress would bring them cookies in the afternoon.