Weather forecasts from above

Weather forecasts are certainly a crapshoot at best. How many times has the meteorologist from the local television or radio station told you the storm of the century was coming so you changed your plans only to witness a nice day, and how many times have you heard not a peep, only to wake up with a foot of snow on the ground and no milk in the refrigerator? Fact is, those guys go to school for years and still have little to no clue about what the weather's going to do. So who would be best to consult to get an accurate forecast of the weather?
The rain tore through the hole in the glass. The weather forecast had called for sunny skies and clouds at worst. It had been raining for two hours straight in sheets that sometimes went sideways against an orange glow emitted from a ticked off sun that wasn't hidden by any clouds. No doubt, the tornado was warming up its engines. I didn't care anymore. Last week it was supposed to be a tropical storm that was supposed to make landfall sometime around midnight. I went to bed in my mobile home confidently. The weather forecast was confident. Perhaps it wouldn't even be a tropical storm when it landed, the weather man had said. The warm water of the gulf wouldn't be a factor unless the storm stalled at sea and picked up steam. What were weather forecasts? Were they piece of mind? I'd been there a few years and we'd never got hit by a big storm yet. The weather forecasts were usually filled with doom and gloom and the weather forecasts were usually wrong. Where did these guys go to school and get their degrees, Macdonald-land University of hamburgers? I had gone to bed and slept well.

I woke up, looked outside, and saw nothing. It was grey outside. It was bleak outside. The wind was a-blowin' but that was about it. The weather forecasts were wrong as usual. Instead of watching the weather or CNN I flipped on sports. After about a half an hour I realized that I was out of cigarettes. I decided to walk to the store about a half mile away, as, since the weather forecasts were screwed, it appeared there was a nice breeze outside. I started walking and did think it was a little cool for October in Panama City Beach but it felt good. I made it out to Front Beach Road, the main drag, and turned the corner heading for the corner store. It struck me as odd that no one was on the road. It struck me as even odder that there was wood boarding up all the windows and if there wasn't wood there was tape in the form of crosses as if they were pleading to God for protection. I stopped walking and realized I was just about alone. Off in the Gulf I could see the ominous clouds rolling my way. They were preceded by great water spouts, or twisters that were out in the Gulf. I realized that perhaps I should have watched the news instead of the football scores. I also realized I was in trouble. I decided right then and there that if I survived this catastrophe that appeared to be only a few miles away, I was going to consult an astrologer when it came time to get weather forecasts, because, unlike the idiot on television, I needed someone who cared and had skill. These weather forecasts could be important.

Just about that time a police officer pulled up and chastised me for being out. He said there was a mandatory evacuation, but the Bridges were closed, I'd missed it, and I was stuck. I told him my family was back at my house asleep. He helped me get them and took us to a shelter about fifteen minutes before the storm surge hit the beach. Man I hate weather men. Long live astrologers.

Thankfully we made it through the storm, though the beach was half destroyed, and my house was battered and bruised. Had I consulted an astrologer instead of a half baked television host, maybe I could have been prepared.
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