Florence
My parents went to Hawaii for a couple of weeks.
I was 18 years old at the time, so that meant there were three kids under 15 at the big house on the hill.
Mom and Dad asked our childhood babysitter, Florence, to keep an eye on things. It was widely accepted that Corinne, John and me didn’t really have to worry about Florence being in charge.
“Just don’t do anything stupid,” Dad mentioned as they left.
Well, on Saturday night I went to the bars on the beach...
...with my cousin Paul.
Anyone who knows my cousin Paulie is probably already nodding, thinking:
“That’s really stupid.”
I couldn’t get Paul out of the bar.
“Florence is going to go ape shit if I don’t get home,” I said.
“You’re with me! I’m an adult,” Paulie said.
I got dropped off around 3 a.m.
Florence was waiting.
She was livid. Hit with a broom. Paul tried to explain. She hit him too.
Florence packed a wallop!
I thought about that this week in the leadup to hurricane Florence and the damage that is coming.
We are now having the storm of the century every year.
They say that there are more major storms brewing right behind this one.
And those who like to argue that global warming or climate change isn’t a factor...
...are simply avoiding the warnings.
Which brings me to the people who are “riding it out” despite screaming from everywhere to evacuate.
God help them all.
And speaking of God, I heard Pat Robertson’s prayer that was directed at the storm. It boiled down to:
“Please go away and spare my properties.”
Then I heard an interview with a true Southern genius:
“God is serving up a reckoning for the perverts involved in homosexual activities.”
How stupid is that dude?
Oh, he was also sticking around to keep an eye on his home.
Would it be asking too much for him to take a couple of broom whacks from Hurricane Florence?
(Dedicated to the memory of Florence who was a good, tough old bird. Sorry about the night of drinking).
I was 18 years old at the time, so that meant there were three kids under 15 at the big house on the hill.
Mom and Dad asked our childhood babysitter, Florence, to keep an eye on things. It was widely accepted that Corinne, John and me didn’t really have to worry about Florence being in charge.
“Just don’t do anything stupid,” Dad mentioned as they left.
Well, on Saturday night I went to the bars on the beach...
...with my cousin Paul.
Anyone who knows my cousin Paulie is probably already nodding, thinking:
“That’s really stupid.”
I couldn’t get Paul out of the bar.
“Florence is going to go ape shit if I don’t get home,” I said.
“You’re with me! I’m an adult,” Paulie said.
I got dropped off around 3 a.m.
Florence was waiting.
She was livid. Hit with a broom. Paul tried to explain. She hit him too.
Florence packed a wallop!
I thought about that this week in the leadup to hurricane Florence and the damage that is coming.
We are now having the storm of the century every year.
They say that there are more major storms brewing right behind this one.
And those who like to argue that global warming or climate change isn’t a factor...
...are simply avoiding the warnings.
Which brings me to the people who are “riding it out” despite screaming from everywhere to evacuate.
God help them all.
And speaking of God, I heard Pat Robertson’s prayer that was directed at the storm. It boiled down to:
“Please go away and spare my properties.”
Then I heard an interview with a true Southern genius:
“God is serving up a reckoning for the perverts involved in homosexual activities.”
How stupid is that dude?
Oh, he was also sticking around to keep an eye on his home.
Would it be asking too much for him to take a couple of broom whacks from Hurricane Florence?
(Dedicated to the memory of Florence who was a good, tough old bird. Sorry about the night of drinking).
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