This may be a very short summer, should it come at all.
We is the Pale People, we walk the streets like pale zombies, occasionally staring up into what we have been told is a thing,
they call it...oh, what is that name they give it? Oh, the SKY! The sky. See the sky? We stare at it. We wonder why. Why.
Oh, and for those of you who have no pity on us because we haven't been beset by tornadoes, think AGAIN!
Not here in our city, but we are actually getting reports of twisters in other parts of Washington: So there.
We won't even bring up the 9.0 earthquake we just attended a preparedness class for. We dunno why. Bellingham is
built on top of mines...MINES! So...we are the pale people waiting for the sun, prepared for the earthquake that will
give Idaho beachfront property, and all we want is a nice tan, the look of a people prepared for adventure by land, sea,
mountain, river, or ocean...
we look like pathetic zombies. with hula-hoops every Saturday at the Farmer's Market. it is the most fun to be had.
Pale stoics waiting for The Big One as the clouds take our fair little city seige day after day...month after month...
until we all hang up our Seattle Sombrero Hats, put on shorts, eat ice cream in hailstorms on Railroad Street, and
Sing: "We are the Champions, my Friend! And we'll Keep on fighting till the end...We are the champions, we are the
champions..." with ice cream. And hula hoops. On Champion Street. Pale Zombies singing. Looking Up, faint memories
of something bright, we know not what. There's even a terrific new gelato place!