![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
For those who read my CSI:NY fic, my latest Flack/Stanhope cracknum opus, Secret Keeper, is now available. The link is to the fourth and final sections, but as always, links to previous sections can be found beneath the customary headers.
The weathermen are calling for more dangerous weather tomorrow, and so I might be offline while more lightning, hail, and tornadoes cut a swath through the area. I'm hopeful that nothing terrible will happen, but the weather shamans are salivating at the prospect of more death, anguish, and wanton destruction. The articles on Weather.com possess a slickly gleeful tone as they recount the record number of violent storms and deadly tornadoes and predict more of the same with the starry-eyed, rhapsodic joy of an Amish teenager on their Rumspringa. As someone who lives in a modular home and has no homeowner's insurance because this is my mother's property and she is too "poor" to pay for it(never mind that she just closed on her fifth property last week), I cannot share their ghoulish anticipation.* I can only hope that Mother Nature looks upon my corner of her great and glorious quilt with mercy.
There was a spot of excitement in the neighborhood a few days ago when a gaggle of drunken teenagers on spring break crashed into a road sign just beyond our street and ran their car into the adjacent ditch. They immediately emerged from the car and fled the scene on foot, but oh, unlucky children, the residents of my neighborhood are all bored veterans with nothing better to do than sit on their front porches all day and watch the neighborhood comings and goings. No sooner had they crashed the hapless sedan than the red-necked angel and his compatriot, Junior Claus, made a beeline to investigate. And oh, even unluckier children, they crashed in front of a volunteer for the police department and a utility worker. So, even though they fled the scene, there were numerous witnesses.
The police found them trying to hide behind a nearby store. They had bought chewing gum and strongly-flavored chips in an attempt to mask the odor of alcohol, but alas for them, they were unsuccessful. The good-old-boy cops, many of whom enjoy the tipple themselves, know booze when they smell it. The teenagers tried to claim that the brakes had failed, but given that they'd been seen roaring through the same stretch of road three minutes before the crash, laughing and waving and screaming out the windows while leaving rubber on the road and screaming into a curve, no one believed them. Their credibility was further demolished by the PD volunteer, who revealed that he'd seen them split the difference between two cars at a dangerous rate of speed a few minutes before the crash. So, off to the hoosegow they went. Some fun, huh, kids?
*I wonder if I could at least get renter's insurance to cover my computers and wheelchairs.
The weathermen are calling for more dangerous weather tomorrow, and so I might be offline while more lightning, hail, and tornadoes cut a swath through the area. I'm hopeful that nothing terrible will happen, but the weather shamans are salivating at the prospect of more death, anguish, and wanton destruction. The articles on Weather.com possess a slickly gleeful tone as they recount the record number of violent storms and deadly tornadoes and predict more of the same with the starry-eyed, rhapsodic joy of an Amish teenager on their Rumspringa. As someone who lives in a modular home and has no homeowner's insurance because this is my mother's property and she is too "poor" to pay for it(never mind that she just closed on her fifth property last week), I cannot share their ghoulish anticipation.* I can only hope that Mother Nature looks upon my corner of her great and glorious quilt with mercy.
There was a spot of excitement in the neighborhood a few days ago when a gaggle of drunken teenagers on spring break crashed into a road sign just beyond our street and ran their car into the adjacent ditch. They immediately emerged from the car and fled the scene on foot, but oh, unlucky children, the residents of my neighborhood are all bored veterans with nothing better to do than sit on their front porches all day and watch the neighborhood comings and goings. No sooner had they crashed the hapless sedan than the red-necked angel and his compatriot, Junior Claus, made a beeline to investigate. And oh, even unluckier children, they crashed in front of a volunteer for the police department and a utility worker. So, even though they fled the scene, there were numerous witnesses.
The police found them trying to hide behind a nearby store. They had bought chewing gum and strongly-flavored chips in an attempt to mask the odor of alcohol, but alas for them, they were unsuccessful. The good-old-boy cops, many of whom enjoy the tipple themselves, know booze when they smell it. The teenagers tried to claim that the brakes had failed, but given that they'd been seen roaring through the same stretch of road three minutes before the crash, laughing and waving and screaming out the windows while leaving rubber on the road and screaming into a curve, no one believed them. Their credibility was further demolished by the PD volunteer, who revealed that he'd seen them split the difference between two cars at a dangerous rate of speed a few minutes before the crash. So, off to the hoosegow they went. Some fun, huh, kids?
*I wonder if I could at least get renter's insurance to cover my computers and wheelchairs.
Tags: