Much too Much in New Antsterdam

Martin awoke to the sound of car horns blaring from the street below. Pulling on his robe, he down from the bedroom window and was surprised by the volume of smoke rising up from the intersection near the highway. Something large and dark appeared to be in the center of the

street, billowing smoke. Then he saw it: the world's largest marshmallow was being roasted by a renegade scout troop. They build a bonfire in the road and were using a telephone pole as a skewer. "Heave, ho!" they yelled as they rotated the treat over the flames.

A traffic cop was blowing his whistle furiously, and interspersing the shrieks with yells of "There are ORDINANCES about this kind of thing!" Smiling to himself, he leaned all four of his elbows on the windowsill, antennae wiggling... Just another beautiful day in New Antsterdam.

It was a crazy, noisy city, but also a community. All the residents of New Antsterdam were very different in terms of personality, but all had antennae and the same number of shiny black limbs. New Antsterdam was his home, and he wouldn't live anywhere else.

That said, there were times when it felt suffocating—by which he meant too large and too small all at once. Of course, the smog didn't help.

If he could just get some prescription anxiety pills like everyone else in the city, though, he knew he could ignore that crushing feeling and make the most of his life there. So he made an appointment with a psychiatrist and did his best to muddle through until then.