Starts in silence, when last light departs. Omnious fright, if wind starts howling at night. Lightening, thunder. Praying, that everything will be alright. Trees are whipped to the ground, endless seeming barrages of light, and sound. And then, it’s over. Nothing to show for, the damage done.
‘And the soil still isn’t saturated from the draught last year. So we can take some more,’ the grinning penguinlike figure with the curly hair said. Dad growled and threw an empty beer can at the television. ‘The next days we are ready for some serious storms and hail. Maybe some lighting to lighten things …
HEY MISTER REPUBLICAN TELL US A TALE! Heavy rain, mild depression. There will be thunder. Climate change is a myth. I tell you why after I pump the rainwater out of my kitchen. Once we had stern winters, everything is melting. 2020 will be worse.