Weathermen Know Nothing – Paranoia #505K

Posted on June 8, 2011

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I found a message in an empty bottle of beer:

I am coming for you.

Yours,

Hurricane Stan

I looked out my friend’s kitchen window. The clouds were blackening and the trees were beginning to sway. My god, I thought. There is a hurricane that is literally coming to kill me. I have to get out of here!

My friend walked into the kitchen as I was making my exit. We had been having a party for a week now and I was inebriated and he was inebriated and several other friends who were also drunk came in behind him. More drinks, they said.

No way, I said. Look at this message. Look outside.

Weird, they said. Still, if it’s going to be bad, we might as well celebrate! A hurricane party! Score!

No way, I said. There is a HURRICANE coming to kill us! Doesn’t that alarm you? We live in the midwest, man!

Not really, one friend said. These things come and go. Hurricanes like to threaten people.

They began to open up bottles of lager and that was my weakness. My girlfriend had been telling me, right before she disappeared a few months ago, that I had a terrible weakness for lager.

The hurricane was upon us in hours and the entire city drowned. I managed to find a church steeple and hang on for life. Hurricane Stan had killed the city, but I survived. The weatherman got the name and gender of the hurricane wrong, called it Hurricane Wilma, but what can you really expect from weathermen?

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Posted in: Year 1: Paranoia