“For a while his television worked just fine, and he could see the ominous approach of Katrina, hour after hour after hour. Just sitting in his kitchen he could see how he was a target. This thing was coming after him personally. And the same message was blaring out of his living room and bedroom. Wherever he went in the house there was a TV. Different channels, but same picture. And he was in the middle of it. It made the adrenaline flow. Tubby could hear the wind picking up outside, feel the b...ranches of the trees scraping his roof, hear the slamming of loose shutters and shed doors, and the rusty whine of attic ventilators gone crazy. His nerves were winding up. Rain began to come down in loud waves that beat against the sliding glass doors facing the backyard of his house. He tried to make a supper of a can of turtle soup found in the cupboard, but it didn’t satisfy. He finished off his bourbon. The Fritos were history. He looked hungrily at his last can of medium black olives. And the storm was still hours away from land.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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