Thursday, October 27, 2005

MY HATE AFFAIR WITH WILMA

Men who have love affairs rarely admit it. I had a hate affair and this is it. With me and Wilma, the windy witch of the South,it was hate at first date. I said to Wilma, gimma break, for God's sake, and take your insane Hurricane to some other terrain like Iran, Iraq, Therein or even Spain and leave my domain alone.

As a resident of South Florida I resent the bleak week I spent at your detour into my Brevard back yard. It was one of the most horrida experiences of my life. If you were my wife, I'd divorce you faster than a race horse coming around the homestretch, you windy wretch.

Life was so serene before you appeared on the scene with your mean intentions and your ploy to demolish and destroy the joy that, until of late, was great here in the Sunshine State. I must admit you play rough, but one puff from you was quite enough. So take your stuff and stuff it. We've had enough of it. We can't tough it anymore here on our shore.

Look at the homes you destroyed, the now unemployed. floods and fires we couldn't avoid, good times we could have enjoyed. My neighbors and I are not just annoyed, they're furious. I'm curious, why'd you pick our bailiwick, you sick chick? You came and left quick, such heart ache in your wake.

We'll clean up the debris you were so unkind to leave behind. We'll replace the trees you uprooted. The foliage you denuded. The wildlife you executed.

Thank God you now are gone. Life goes on.

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