“Am I seeing this right?” I asked
Nat, pointing at my phone screen.
On it was a radar and satellite map
of a hurricane, one that would encompass the entire Gulf of Mexico.
“Yeah. It’s all hands on deck with
this one. Jack and Anna-Maria are bringing basically every European storm rider
with them. Everyone needs to meet in the Florida Keys in the next two hours.
That doesn’t give us much time.”
“How the hell did this even
happen?”
“A few times it’s happened when
separate storms have collided, but this motherfucker spun up like any other
storm, it just took its Viagra early on.”
“Shit. Do we have a plan beyond
having a pow wow?”
“Do you have one?”
“No.”
“Then no.”
“What the hell do we even call this
thing. I mean it blows away any type of scale previously thought of and super
storm or hyper storm just sounds stupid.”
“Because it is. I think we should
just call it ‘Motherfucking-bend-over-and-take-a-cactus-up-your-ass-my-God-we-are-so-fucking-fucked-storm.’
What do you think?”
“It’s got my vote.”