The decision to flee came simultaneously with the devilish-way of the white substance that was falling from the grey tortured sky. To go outside would be to fight the strange madness that the tainted mistress, Mother Nature, has thrust upon us.
I’m certain, by now, that the people have rushed out in droves to gather their milk and their bread. The stores, at this time, are probably desolate.
With good interest in mind, the smart man would stay at home. Weather persons have advised us, like a Gonzo attorney, to slow down on the twisted, black ice, roads. I advise, like a person of experience, to stay off the doomed and cold white roads.
We’ve seen blizzards before, but the likes of this was fast and unforgiving. Flood, blizzard, ice, no power. Snowmaggedon.
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