The motorway leading to the Fluffy Puffy Marshmallow company was one of those roads that few people traveled on, and even fewer people maintained. There were some rather ominous looking holes in the pavement, and parts of the shoulder just simply were not there. Along the sides the grass remained wild, and strange looking creatures roamed about, darting away as I approached. These might have been ordinary animals that one would see on the side of an unkempt motorway, but they moved away quickly enough that I could never get a clear look at any of them, except for the dead ones that were partially eaten by the others.
As I came round the bend in the motorway, and just over the next hill, I could see the factory silhouetted against the grey cloudy sky. It was rather spooky looking, but then these places always are on cases like this, I can remember thinking. This also made me remember that spooky looking places on the outside, usually proved to be even more so inside, so I mentally prepared myself for that possibility, and continued driving to the gate that would lead up to the factory door.
The gates were shut, and from where I was now standing, outside of my van, I could not see the parking lot, or any vehicles. I looked for a bell, or an announcer of some sort, but saw none. The latch was unlocked, so I threw the lever back and opened the gate. It swung open with an uncertainty of something that had not been moved in quite a while, and let out a loud creaking moan as it did so. I reminded myself again that gates are supposed to be creaky, but the clap of thunder right then did nothing to help calm my nerves.
I pulled into the welcoming circle, but saw no other vehicles, so I parked in the twenty-minute reserve parking spot, and hopped out of the bus. I made my way towards the front door while taking in the entire edifice of the building. The building looked to be old and as badly in need of repair as the motorway that led up to it. I saw scattered lights in several different windows on several different floors, so there must be some workers here. Perhaps they have an underground parking garage somewhere, and I just missed it.
As I reached the double glass doors, the sky opened up, and the rain pelted down upon everything uncovered. I quickly opened one of the doors and rushed inside, so as not to get drenched, and was compleatly unprepared for what I found inside. The reception area was compleatly spotless, and ultra modern. To my right was a black leather sofa with a chrome and glass coffee table in front of it. Beside the sofa was a matching end table, to the coffee table. Each of these tables had magazines neatly arranged on them, with the coffee table having the obligatory potted plant in the middle as well. Above the sofa, hanging on the wall, was a rather large print of a woman made up for Mardi Gras. The colours were nice and went well with the rest of the decor.
In front of me was a very sleek looking receptionist’s desk, compleat with computer, and receptionist, who was staring at me oddly. I approached her, and her look only became more puzzled as I got nearer. "How did you come to come in ‘round here?" she queried, and then added, "No one ever comes in ‘round here, what with the motorway being so beat-up and all."
I explained who I was, and the long explanation of how I came to be ‘round this way, and might I see a supervisor or someone who could show me around, smiling the whole time. She listened, then laughed, and explained that I had come ‘round the back way, and I was the first person she knew of that used this way in almost a month, and that she would gladly call a supervisor down to help me, giggling the whole time.
