Whither…dark and stormy night

By Ava Tramer

Beaches
Mostly sunny
Highs: 60-72; Lows: 54-58

Inland
Clear and warm
Highs: 69-83; Lows: 49-53

Deserts
Hot and sunny
Highs: 79-88; Lows: 59-61

And Santa Monica…
Grandpa Joe sits huddled around the fire with his grandson Timmy.  Grandpa Joe shines a flashlight on his chin for maximum scariness.
Grandpa Joe: It was a dark and stormy night.  The wind —
Timmy: Grandpa Joe, what’s a stormy night?
Grandpa Joe: You mean you don’t know?
Timmy shakes his head.
Grandpa Joe: Well, child, it’s when the wind blows, and the rain comes down real hard, and everything is verrrrry scary.  Got it?
Timmy nods.
Grandpa Joe:  It was a dark and stormy night.  The wind howled, and all around the town, dark figures were seen scurrying around —
Timmy: Grandpa Joe?
Grandpa Joe: Yes Timmy?
Timmy: What’s rain?
Grandpa Joe: Oh child.  It’s like when you take a shower, except the water comes from the sky.
Timmy: Ok Grandpa Joe.
Grandpa Joe:  All around the town, dark figures were seen scurrying around.  They all wore hoods, and from underneath the dark hoods, came puffs of red —
Timmy:  Grandpa Joe?
Grandpa Joe: Yes Timmy?
Timmy:  Can I have a piece of my Halloween candy?
Grandpa Joe:  Ok Timmy.  Just one.
Timmy reaches into his trick-or-treat bag and pulls out a candy.
Timmy:  Mounds bar?  Ewww!
He puts the Mounds bar back and pulls out some Smarties.
Timmy:  Ok Grandpa Joe, I got some Smarties.  Do you want one?
Grandpa Joe: No, Timmy.  Will you listen now?
Timmy:  Ok Grandpa Joe.
Grandpa Joe:  From underneath their dark hoods came puffs of red smoke.  All of a sudden, a flash of lightning lit up the dark sky, revealing —
Timmy:  Grandpa Joe, what’s lightning?
Grandpa Joe:  Ok, this is just ridiculous.  I’m just trying to tell you a simple scary story.  This is the last time I ever come visit in Santa Monica for Halloween.  Ridiculous.
Timmy: Grandpa, I love you.  I love when you visit from Minnesota.
Grandpa Joe:  Hmph.
Timmy:  Can we go play at the beach tomorrow in the sun?
Grandpa Joe:  Ok Timmy, whatever you want.  It’s bedtime now.  No more story for tonight.
Timmy:  Do I have to brush my teeth?
Grandpa Joe:  No, just go to bed.
Timmy:  Goodnight, Grandpa Joe.
Grandpa Joe:  Goodnight, Timmy.
Grandpa Joe turns out his flashlight, and pauses at the doorway of Timmy’s bedroom.
Grandpa Joe:  Timmy?  What’s that “sun” thing that you mentioned?

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