Robert Robus misses a train

Ah! Hello there! Welcome once again to the world of I, Robert Robus! Today I am standing outside a train station in little Glasgow, Montana, waiting to catch a train to visit my niece, Stacy. Stacy, though having commenced life in an infantine state, is now five years old, and of considerable height. In fact, she now stands at least four feet in stature; yet I will admit that, at times I, Robert Robus, have been known to call her "shorty." At any rate, Stacy lives in Portland, and I'm on my way to see her this fine evening.

But look! What a fascinating train station this is! How opulent shines the architecture of this magnificent and august edifice! Note the numerous plywood columns, cut in corinthian style; the ornate plastic windows--ah, what a building! And, my, so finely furnished! How elaborate the soda machines; how precisely worded the promotional pamphlets! And, oh, Cindy, how delightful: those cornices jibe exceedingly well with your enormous calves!

But what do you mean your name's not Cindy? You sure look like one! Well, confound your mother as well, you saucy dame!

Now, as I was saying, the smooth lines of the overall design are also to be noted and extolled. And observe the landscaping that has been so exquisitely fashioned around that area where those fine folks are gathering together those mysterious bags they seem to have. The redbuds flank nicely this area; and, my, those maples are robust! And the bricks along the walkway where those uniformed gentlemen are shoving the last of the bags into the compartments of that strange bulk of steel and yelling "All aboard! Last call for boarding! All aboard!" are of such a decidedly superb cut!

But hark! What is that I hear? Why, it's the noise of an engine starting up--unmistakable! The mysterious bulk of steel (which, at second glance, appears to comprise segments joined together--like a string of pearls, indeed, or perhaps a rosary) is beginning to move! What is occurring here, I pause and wonder; what is going on?

What? What's that you say, sir? That strange bulk of congregated steel boxes strung together, which has now picked up speed at a precipitous and rather alarming rate, is a train? But sir, I, Robert Robus, came here, to little Glasgow, Montana, to catch one of these said "trains" for the purpose of embarking on a sojourn to visit my beloved niece, Stacy, in Portland! And I did not enter the confines of that remarkable chunk of steel when it was stationed here not two minutes previous, and all those mysterious people were milling around it for equally mystifying reasons, and. . .

Oh, my God! I've missed my train! I've missed my train! Central, call headquarters and tell them to stop the train! Call headquarters and exhort them to stop the train for I, Robert Robus! --What's that? No, you say? Then I'll run after it, you tyrants! I'll run after that train! Folks, you'll hear more from Robert Robus later, after he curses these scrofulous railway scalawags! Come back soon!