Thunder and lightning cracked the sky, shaking the house while sleet whipped against its weathered wooden walls. That's right, thundersleet, the opening salvo of a Scandanavian death metal band and all at zero dark thirty.
I had to shout at Alexa, Alexa Jones, "ALEXA, TURN OFF WHITE RABBIT." What was the point; you couldn't hear Grace Slick anyway, over the fury of the elements.
One cup of hot tea later, the team was in the rig and advancing to contact through the flooded streets of this once tranquil rural Texan haven. Good thing we had a truck. Then, at an obligatory stop for coffee at the Shamrock Pick 'n Steal, the thundersleet crashed down.
BOOM. It was like a sledgehammer or the Russian guns on the Oder front. But the barrage subsided after an earsplitting frenzy. I reassured the cowering Pick 'n Stealers, stand steady! all the while calmly sipping coffee from a Yeti mug. You can't show fear, it spreads panic.
Then it was back to the Compound through the flood. Armed? Better believe it.
LSP