The Land of Testrifficdor [1]

The sun rose red in Testrifficdor that morning. Blood had been spilled in the quiet little village of Aussieville, where the town’s mayor, Aaron, had been brutally slaughtered. His mangled remains were found hanging off the large kangaroo head above the village’s well known inn. All the townsfolk gathered there to pay respects to their long-adored mayor, and to spread vicious rumors about who would have murdered such a benevolent man. While this was going on, a poor peasant woman by the name of Artemis was ordered to clean up the mess

Many pointed to the dreaded creature, upon whose name one would jump at hearing, as the murderer.   The horrible, dreadful, pink bear known only as It-that-shall-not-be-spoken-of, formally known as Putsy, was, later that day, blamed as the perpetrator of this horrid assassination.  

A search was organized, and all of Testrifficdor’s Aussies carefully tread into the nearby wood where the dreaded monster was said to dwell.

Meanwhile, in the far-off, isolated town of Britainford, Puffdaddypuff awoke in his rather shabby little cottage, for you see, Britainford was a forsaken little town, where all were poor. Despite this curse, all the town’s residents believed themselves to be better than all of the people of Testrifficdor, especially those horrid, horrid chaps who lived in the gargantuan city of America, Testrifficdor’s capital.

Puffdaddypuff got out of bed and went to drink some coffee, but realize that, unlike the rest of Testrifficdor, Britainford had no coffee, and all its townsfolk were forced to drink naught by water and tea. So Puff, as many called him, poured himself a cup of tea and breakfasted on a few crumpets and margarine. So began a day in Britainford.

All the way in the rich and abundant city of America, the cityfolk rose with the sun and went on with their busy and satisfying days as Testrifficdor’s finest residents. Yanks also got out of bed, and went to look out the window. It was at that moment that he saw none other than Natt walking down the street. He ran outside in his bedclothes to meet her, for this was a rare occasion.

“Natty Natt!” he shouted, waving. Natt, also known as StrippedSox, turned around and saw him. With a bright smile on her face, she ran to him and gave him a great big hug.

“What are you doing here in America?” asked Yanks, confused, for you see, Natt lived in poor old Britainford where nothing good ever happened.

“I’ve decided to come here and live a better life. Britainford just wasn’t doing it for me, you know?”

“Boy, do I!” exclaimed Yanks, and invited Natt into his large and grand apartment that was situated right in the middle of Testrifficdor’s most amazing city that faced a large statue of the prominent Testrifficdorian god, stitchchick.