Hurricane
2004-05-16 - 11:14 p.m.

The wind whirled wildly around in the alliterative head of Alvin Aldrich. It tore off the rooftops and laid bare the ground; it played darts with straws, and took livestock on a tilt-a-whirl. It tore the tops off of trees, and ripped the roots from the bushes. It left no stone unturned, and nothing standing.

It was a terrible storm in his head.

He looked out the window at the dismal dribbles falling from the sky, at the tree branches barely moving, and sighed. He walked to the refrigerator and took out a beer. After a few of these, an April shower wouldn’t seem so bad.