Daily Prompt: Welcome, Stranger – Wordy comes to my village

Think about the town where you currently live: its local customs, traditions, and hangouts, its slang. What would be the strangest thing about this place for a first-time visitor?

Swiss Cows

Someone at the door.

“Hello Mrs. Angloswiss, it’s Sunday afternoon and you asked me to call round. Have you baked a chocolate cake, I am hungry.”

“Hello Wordy. Yes as it’s your day off I thought you might like to go on a sightseeing tour of my village of Feldbrunnen in Switzerland. You work so hard and deserve a reward. Are you ready?”

“Oh, I see. Will we have to walk?”

“Yes Wordy, there is no bus in the village and the local train only takes you to the next town. We live in the country and we have to walk. It is a good job you are wearing your WordPress sneakers and your WordPress t-shirt. They are ideal for a walk over country roads. So let’s go.”

“Mrs. Angloswiss, I am a little hungry. Where’s the MacDonalds. I would love a hamburger.”

“Sorry Wordy, no MacDonalds in the village. We have a restaurant where you can have lunch: perhaps some Rösti and a Bratwurst.”

“Errrr. Yea,. Can you have pickles with it and ketchup?.”

“Not quite Wordy, its fried potato and a special Swiss sausage.”

“Like a foot long?”

“Wordy I think we will call in later for the lunch. In the meanwhile you can chew on some Landjäger.”


“Ok, forget the food. Here is some Swiss chocolate.”

And so Wordy contentedly chewed on some chocolate until …..

“Eeeeek Help, I am being followed by a monster.”

“Wordy that is a Swiss cow. They are very friendly, look how she is blinking at you with her large brown eyes. She is even mooing at you. I thing that cow likes you.”

“No, Mrs. Angloswiss. Our cows arrive in shops in the shape of a hamburger. We don’t let them walk around in the parks.

“Wordy, where I live is one big park. We have fields and that is where the cows live and eat grass. We often use the cows for their milk.“

“Milk comes in packs where I live or in bottles. You put a cow on the table when you want a glass of milk?”

“No Wordy, we milk them. The milk comes out of the udder; that bit hanging down in front of the back legs. You alternatively pull on those things and the milk comes out.”

“You drink milk from an animal. We get our milk in the supermarket.”

“So do we Wordy. The milk is processed in the diary and filled up into the bottles you buy.”

“Aha. What’s that noise?”

“It’s harvest time Wordy. The farmer is cutting the wheat.”

“Don’t tell me. It is put into boxes and we can buy it afterwards.”

“Not quite Wordy. It is ground in the mills to turn it into flour and they we bake bread with it. Wordy, tell me, do you ever leave Silicon Valley?“

“Not really. I don’t have too, I have everything I need. I just put an order in on my computer and it arrives. I get my meals in the WordPress canteen and we have our own MacDonalds. My gear comes from WordPress. We have our own manufacturing plant. Mrs. Angloswiss, can we go back to your place. You live in a dangerous place with cows walking around and machines in the fields. All the paths go up or down, only the main road is flat and you only have a train to get out of the village. I want to go home.” And Wordy began to shed a few tears.

It seems that the wide open spaces are really not for little Wordy and I only wanted to show him around.

“Let’s go to the restaurant.”

“Oh yes, Mrs. Angloswiss. I might even try that foreign stuff they cook.”

We entered the restaurant.

“Gruessech. Was möchte Sie gärn?. Da isch dr Menukarte.”

“Mrs. Angloswiss help. That man is talking gibberish and giving me a card with words I don’t understand. Is he from the FBI?”

“No Wordy, he is the waiter. He asked you what you would like to eat and giving you the menu card. Don’t worry. I will do it for you Wordy.”

I explained to the waiter that Wordy was a stranger in our town and I ordered the meal. Wordy seemed to like the Rösti and the Bratwurst and the waiter even served the sausage with onions. It was a little embarrassing when Wordy put the sausage in his serviette to eat it instead of cutting it on the plate with a knife and fork.

I think Wordy enjoyed the trip to my village, although he did not seem to be cut out for the country life. I had a sneaking suspicion that he was a computer product. He never talks about his mum and dad. Anyhow I gave him some chocolate cake at my place before he had himself beamed up by the WordPress beamer.

Daily Prompt: Welcome, Stranger – Wordy comes to my village