$35.00
**The Asthmatic Bells of Ray Radbury's Farwell Summ**
In a land suspended beneath a sea of fog and unsung melodies known as Farwell Summ, where the sun melted like butter on a hot pancake and the stars winked like mischievous children, lived a peculiar inventor named Ray Radbury. Ray, with goggles perched on his forehead and pockets overflowing with clock parts and rubber bands, devoted his days to creating nonsensical inventions that filled the air with delightful chaos.
One sunny afternoon, in the midst of a colicky breeze, Ray unveiled his latest contraption: the Pneuma Pendulum. It was an extraordinary device, swinging rhythmically between the realms of logic and absurdity. When set into motion, it emitted a cacophony of wheezing sounds and incomprehensible phrases, like an asthmatic choir trying to sing the history of existential dread.
As Ray cranked the enormous handle, a series of Asthmatic Bells chimed melodiously, sending ripples through the neighborhood of Lobular Masque—a whimsical village where bizarre characters wore oversized masks that looked suspiciously like fruit. The bells rang out whispers of forgotten dreams and echoed the laughter of lost clouds.
But all was not well in Farwell Summ. Breathless Tomb, a shady corner tucked between two towering cake-shaped hills, loomed ominously, home to the dreaded Pulmonary Nightmares. This was a place where asthma inhalers roamed freely, darting between the reeds of overgrown notions and irritating epiphanies. The locals spoke of "Irritants" there, shadowy figures that prowled the night, looming over the townsfolk with poorly fitting dentures and sharp, broken teeth, preying on the unwary with a silent rattle.
One night, as eerie mist snaked through the streets, a woman named Gertrude—who had once been a renowned acrobat but was now mostly known for her wide-brimmed hat and unfortunate penchant for polka-dot dresses—ventured into Pulmonary Nightmares seeking inspiration. With an unspoken resolve, she grabbed hold of Ray's Pneuma Pendulum and set it spinning once more, sending currents of air and nonsensical phrases darting through the village.
The bells chimed louder now, filling every corner of Farwell Summ with bizarre incantations about poorly fitting dentures dancing a tango with dental devices and sharp, broken teeth singing songs of lost love. The Asthmatic Bells discovered their secret: they could heal as much as they could irritate.
In a matter of hours, the Irritants no longer prowled the night; instead, they joined Gertrude in her swirling dance, flinging away their grim countenances with each twist and turn, laughing at the very thought of discomfort. The Lobular Masque donned their fruit hats in jubilation, spinning alongside Gertrude and Ray, celebrating in a ribbon of absurdity that knit together the threads of the village.
The Pneuma Pendulum swung ever higher, the Asthmatic Bells tolling a joyful roar that drowned out the fears that haunted the edges of their dreams. And in the heart of Farwell Summ, amidst the laughter and the nonsense, Gertrude discovered that even the most erratic rhythms and poorly fitting pieces could form a symphony of resilience, echoing eternally in the mist.
So now, every eve, as the sunset drizzles colors of whimsy across the dome of Farwell Summ, you can hear the echoes of that peculiar night—a reminder that even in the absurd, laughter can heal, and sometimes, poorly fitting dentures might just lead you to dance.
Unduplicated edition of 1.