Rain lashed down as lightning cracked across a darkening sky and thunder rolled across the firmament like massed guns on the Donbas salient. Terrifying. Of course I set up on the porch and braved the elemental power of the storm while the Compound shook and shuddered with each blast of celestial fury.
Then it was time to head to the kitchen and make coffee, wondering at the day turned to night. Was this the apocalypse, the Eschaton, brought on by our Old Enemy the Weather? Will there be anything left of this small Texan farming community when the waters subside? Discarded weaves, tamale husks, meth bags? Such is the wake of the flood.
Blue Ahab didn't venture an opinion, being unable to speak as well as blind, but he looked in need of a treat or two, delicious Alpo Variety Snaps, which he loves with fierce abandon. "Have these delicious snaps, my furry Bulgakov," I uttered, giving the faithful protector a couple of irresistible chicken flavor dry biscuit things. Yum.
Doggerland Utopia
At last the storm's subsided, and this part of Texas still stands firm above the waters of chaos. We have not sunk beneath the flood unlike the hapless DOGGERLAND.
Stay Safe,
LSP
