I’m a midwesterner (I mean if you can call Michigan really midwest - since we are neither very far West, or very far Mid, I think the name’s a little misleading), so I don’t have to sweat the hurricanes. It’s the twisters that we’re ducking around here. But my brother-in-law took up residence in Florida a few years back, and apparently is right in the path of the storm. Which is unfortunate for him, since he already thinks the state perpetually smells really, really bad. I can’t imagine that it’s gonna smell or look much better after getting slammed by a storm.
In any event, here is one of the latest updates he sends as Hurricane Fay moves toward Florida:
I’m still here. Not much new to report on Fay. The light sprinkle that started
around four this afternoon has gradually given way to a slow drizzle. The
wind is just starting to pick up now. Fay is slow at getting organized, and
she might not make hurricane strength before landfall.
More worrisome than the storm, is the apparent plague of zombieism that has
gripped the state. I was at the grocery store, and while it wasn’t chaotic,
or terribly crowded, I’m fairly certain most of the customers there had no
idea where they were. They staggered about, pale-faced, as if they’d never in
their lives engaged in commerce of any kind.
I saw one gentleman shamble aimlessly down the canned meat aisle, parking
himself in front of the sardines, staring into space. He was blocking access
to the packages of tuna I sought, so I encouraged him to make his selection
and move along. I eventually had to shoulder around him; there were no lights
on in the attic. As far as I know, he’s still there, comparing anchovies.
I also crossed paths with a woman, toddler in hand, who seemed stopped in
time, confounded by a jar of candied beets. Both seemed content to stare at
their shoes and moan softly, so I quietly maneuvered around them to complete
my purchases.
I didn’t see any sort of crush fighing over chilled brains, but it’s really
only a matter of time. I made a stop at Target on the way home to pick up a
shotgun, chainsaw, Necronomicon and all the standard supplies for handling
armies of the undead. It never hurts to be prepared.
Now everything I know about hurricanes, I’ve learned from The Golden Girls. So by my approximation, he should be taking cover in a public television studio and selling candybars to survivors while police gather old people. Let’s just hope that they aren’t what’s making Florida smell so bad or he won’t have any fun at all.
Katie
