THE STORM IS GETTING WILDER, SO I'M AFRAID I'LL HAVE TO SHOUT SO YOU CAN HEAR ME. EVERYTHING IS OKAY HERE SO FAR - I HAVE OFF WORK TODAY, SO ALL I HAVE TO DO IS SIT AROUND WRITING AND BAKING AND FLIPPING LIGHT SWITCHES ON AND OFF BEFORE THE POWER HAS A CHANCE TO CUT OUT. WHILE OUTSIDE THE RAIN STREAMS DOWN AND THE WIND GOES GALUMPHING PAST.
MAYBE IT'S THE STORM, OR IT COULD BE THE CABIN FEVER, BUT SOMETHING STRANGE IS HAPPENING AS I WRITE TODAY. THIS TUMULTUOUS WEATHER SEEMS TO BE EKING INTO MY BRAIN, MAKING EVERYTHING I WRITE ALL VIOLENT AND CHAOTIC. FRANKENSTORM ISN'T JUST WREAKING HAVOC WITH OUR CITIES AND POWER; IT'S AFFECTING OUR VERY MINDS, UNLEASHING ALL THE HORRIFIC IDEAS AND CHILLING THOUGHTS WE USUALLY MANAGE TO KEEP STIFLED AND HIDDEN AWAY.
FOR INSTANCE, IN THE STORY I'M WRITING NOW, AN ELDERLY LADY JUST KILLED A MAN. THAT'S BAD ENOUGH, BUT IT WAS AT LEAST PART OF THE PLOT. I WAS IN CONTROL OF THE SITUATION. TODAY, HOWEVER, THE OLD WOMAN WENT ON A MAD SPREE, SPENDING A PAGE AND A HALF SPEWING SOME VERY INVENTIVE CURSE WORDS AT THE CORPSE WHILE LAPPING BLOOD OFF THE MURDER WEAPON. AFTER THAT, SHE WENT INTO A SPRIGHTLY RENDITION OF "PAPA DON'T PREACH" AS SHE SWERVED HER WHEELCHAIR DOWN THE HALL.
AND YOU SHOULD SEE WHAT I LOOK LIKE TODAY.
Images from Winnie the Pooh, via Vivalicious; Arrested Development via Penny Arcade.
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