Tropical storm William H.
Smith was expected to
make the coast by nightfall.
Barney fell into his night
cap awaiting the show.
Mr. McLather had just left;
it had been a romp of a
visit. Apparently Candy,
McLather’s youngest, had
risen in rank from a 5 to an 8
in no less than a month and the
Screaming Eagles were just eating her up.
The Eagles were Willie’s as well as
the McLather’s home team. When
they had an away game, which wasn’t
often (for a number of rather hard-core
reasons), Junior – McLather’s eldest –
liked to sit in the back of the
band bus with the goth gang, all
horny for some make-up of his own,
or at least just a teensy taste.
Junior’s best friend, Dirk, would
remain forever unaware of this
titillating fact. We aren’t sure
exactly how the storm took their
poor hometown by, um, storm
but boy did it ever! Yessiree,
it certainly did. When
Eleanor, Barney’s next door
neighbor, awoke with a yawn
the next morning, she was
tickled pink to be greeted by
her polka dot begonia’s newly
unfurled blooms. Word on the
street (of which Turkeysburg had
only one) was for weeks after
all about how the town smelled
like a banana for the whole of
the weekend following. That less
than pugnacious town wherein
not one citizen in its lazy vicinity
bore witness as the storm purportedly
came and went, taking with it
every single street sign for the
passers-by traveling to the east,
Marge Phillipic's massive front
porch, and the town's one ginger
bread-looking post office building.
