Image by Tim Hill of Pixabay
So, we’ve got a deadly virus making the rounds — say, how about a wave of intense storms?
Would that add to the fun?
No, it doesn’t. The agitated local weatherman on the TV downstairs is close to hyperventilating between each use of the word ‘rotation.’ The weather maps are festooned with colors, which correspond to the meanings below:
YELLOW — You are in grave danger.
RED — That was probably you spotted at 25,000 feet by the Doppler Debris Radar.
PURPLE — Even the cockroaches are digging underground reinforced concrete bunkers.
CHARTREUSE — Welcome to the Afterlife.
I’ve lived in the Deep South my entire life. Tornadoes are nothing new.
I once watched one barrel down Highway 334. It looked like a dirty rope twirled recklessly about by some Lovecraftian horror bending over the sky. That one took a few roofs and tore up a lot of fences, but no one was hurt.
This new breed of twisters isn’t generally so benign. If the weather people are right, things are going to get much worse as the day turns to night.
I suppose tomorrow will bring with it a plague of locusts and maybe a rain of armed, militant toads.
Where are the home-sized force fields, the flying cars, and the Star Trek medikits?
Captain Kirk, we need you now!
