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THAT’S FRONKEN-STORM!

“THAT’S FRONKENSTORM!”


“Meteorology be damned!” Fredrick declared.

“My grandfather’s research into the migratory weather patterns was always missing one element!
It was very… mundane, very humdrum!” the lecture continued.

“But Professor Frankensteam, didn’t your grandfather summer in the south of France? His weather theories are just something I cannot wrap my brain around!” a student interjected.

“That’s Fronkensteam!” he laughed. “My grandfather was a nincompoop. What he knew of weather I could fit into this petri dish filled with formaldehyde! Trust me weather is an extremely fickle mistress!”

“Professor? But your theory lacks the legs to stand on!” the indignant pupil pondered!

“YOU STINKING, LOUSY SON-OF-A-BITCH! LEGS? You want legs? I can give it legs! I can attach arms as well. I can give it a pert little smile! I CAN MAKE THIS THING A MONSTROUS EVENT!” Fredrick ranted.

“You don’t scare me with your weird science and your ‘Frankenstorm’!” the young man blustered.

“THAT’S FRONKENSTORM! I’LL SHOW ALL OF YOU!” he shouted and the lightning flashed and the rains started to fall wildly. “IT IS ALIVE!”

HEADING TO GREENVILLE

“every shade of crimson and orange and umber filled her with wonder”

The trip had been planned for months, there was no turning back now. Even though the Weather Service has been predicting tornadoes throughout the Midwest, Hank and Emily were finally getting the opportunity to get away from things for a while. The farm had been left in capable hands, and this would be the honeymoon that they had never taken. Forty-three years in the making, there was no turning back now.

Emily loved to travel, always wanting to go where the four winds would take her. She wanted to be “a bluebird”; just sprout wings and fly. Across the plain, above the river; under bridges and over rainbows, she was finally getting the chance. Emily rationalized that this certainly wasn’t flying – Henry didn’t drive as fast as he used to.

The colors always intrigued Emily. The vibrancy of each tint and hue made life at home feel very monochromatic. It paled in comparison. But every shade of crimson and orange and umber filled her with wonder for One who could so create such beauty. She declared He was a wizard when it came to foliage! Henry smiled and drove on.

A few miles down the road, the skies started to take on an ominous cloak of darkness, muting the magnificent colorings. Henry followed the road, having a hard time keeping the car on the pavement on occasion. The pall of the storm gave a strange amber accent to the asphalt. Henry hadn’t noticed over Emily’s screaming.

The tail of a twister just seemed to lift out of the ground, sweeping across the road and levitating their automobile into the eye of the swirling behemoth. Emily’s screech was a continuous din now. Henry gripped the steering wheel tightly; his knuckles were ashy white. And then, just as suddenly, the storm released the vehicle and it spun to earth with a muted thud.

The road looked different, certainly not the route that Henry’s GPS had calculated. The car sat crosswise in the hub of an intersection of country roads bordered by cornfields. Henry rolled down his window and asked directions of a farmhand who stood in one of the fields waving away the crows from the lofty stalks.

The couple thanked the man and continued on their adventure. They were unaware of the little girl dressed in bloody gingham and her crushed dog who lay in the road where their car had landed!

MEANWHILE, BACK IN THE ENCHANTED FOREST…

Randall the Meek, stood as petrified as the trees that surrounded him. His knees knocked. His teeth chattered. He thought he’d soil himself.

Randall had been drummed out of the king’s service for his timidity. But, then Princess Portense’s kidnapping changed all that. All knights were pressed into action and yes, even Randall was required to join in the search. His steed Chester plodded along through the low brush as Randall called out.

“PRINCESS? PRINCESS PORTENSE!?” he shouted quietly. “Chester, I don’t think we’ll find her!”

The horse stopped in its track and tossed his mane back toward Randall, giving him a nasty sneer.

“Do you ALWAYS have to be so wishy-washy?” Chester asked. “When will you ever grow a pair?”

Randall looked at Chester in disbelief.

“Ch-Chester? You can talk?” Randall queried.

“Of course I can talk, we’re in the Enchanted Forest, you moron!” came Chester’s retort.

“B-B-But you’ve never spoken before!” the mild knight reasoned.

“No kidding” said Chester. “Until now , you’ve been tolerable!”

Chester moved forward as his rider continued his din.

“PRINCESS…”