Mom told me to stop playing
with my food.  I kept making
towering Cu with them, with
backsheared anvils and
overshooting tops.  Weather

was fixing to get bad.  Then
it started hailing when I took
the ice out of my glass and
shot it at my annoying little
brother with my spoon.  Did

not mean to pop Dad in the
eye --- that was when he
thundered, 'ENOUGH.  Go
to your room.'  I stomped
up the stairs, decided that

a bath was in order, if only
to watch the tornado in the
drain:  'IT'S AN F - 5!!!'  Dad
issued the warning from
the kitchen:  'GO.  TO.  BED.'

Dried off, got under the
covers, began flicking the
lamp switch on and off ---
lightning, you know.  That's
when the power went off:

Dad again.  He took every
bulb from every light.  Guess
I'll have to dream storms,
since it's dark.  Some don't
appreciate meteorology ...

(c) 2010, Karla Dorman (10/4)