Calm Before The Storm

Tonight the local news station is alive and buzzing. If it were summer, meteorologist Greg Fishel would be at home yelling at his wife in front of the kids because she can’t make creamy mashed potatoes for shit. But it’s January; hunting season for local meteorologists and Greg is far from home and that simple wife of his.


Tonight Greg is on his 5th Monster energy drink since noon and hasn’t bathed, shaved or bothered to contact his family in 36 hours. Storm Tracker 9 has located an upper-level cell of moisture called a fucking cloud and it’s headed straight for Pittsboro, North Carolina. Greg struts around the office because weather is currently the “big story” however what he won’t tell you is that he hasn’t done shit since computers replaced his job 15 years ago… at most, he just reads the Storm Tracker print out.

Greg is about to get on the 10 o’clock news to alert all the mini-van driving mothers of Pittsboro to the impending Armageddon that will ensue in the wake of tonight’s snow flurries. But have no fear Pittsboro. An elite wing of the sanitation department has been deployed to dump enough salt on the roadways that we’ll all be able to float on the surface of our bathwater until spring. What these drooling simpletons don’t realize is that an inch of salt applied to the roadways is equally as slick as an inch of snow. People are going to die tonight.

This is the way the suburbs react to change. A town where 300 lb. cops pull your ass for going 2 over because the crime log for the town is a 3-ring binder with 4 pages in it since 1987. Yet, the local news continues to exaggerate, every dark alley is a lurking rapist wonderland, every minority without a yard tool is in a gang, and every winter storm in January will kill your whole fucking family.

Birds dropping from the sky. Red clouds barreling in from the north. Families will be torn apart at the mercy of these relentless snow flurries tonight. No milk or bread on the shelves within a 50 mile radius; we’ll all be eating each other by morning. The temperature is dropping to average numbers for January and all schools are on a two hour delay because when flurries are expected, drivers can only turn corners with the goddamn e-brake – children flying out the window, mangled vehicles wrapped around telephone poles, violent snow flurries dancing on the breeze…

This will be my last transmission before the power goes go out.


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