Life goes on in Pinkwhistle

Night became day, and day became night, and night became day again, as it so frequently does. And in this way, several years passed.

Life went on in Pinkwhistle. The strange properties of the town, such as the fact that it had absolutely nobody under eighteen or older than about forty-five, or the fact that nobody in it seemed to have parents, continued to go unremarked upon by all.

Of course, the carnival had left its mark. Not a day seemed to pass without at least one of Pinkwhistle's many beautiful women (the only kind of woman in Pinkwhistle) finding herself suddenly stark naked in the street, streaking through town, exposed on live TV, or otherwise undressed through a variety of unlikely scenarios far too contrived and multifarious to even begin to describe here.

Yes, the small town was quite simply cursed. And there was nothing Bonnie or Susie or Mayor Peggy or anyone else could do about it. They never got used to it, either. Every last prank, mishap and surprise stripping was just as humiliating as the one before.

But it couldn't go on forever. The town wasn't cut off from the outside world, after all. Eventually, things had to change.