It rained.
I'm not complaining. This is just your formal announcement.
It rained hard.
Think of me as the weather channel.
We decided to watch a movie. Something with Cuba Gooding, Jr. in it. The movie was at its climax. Cuba was near death and as he glared at Robert DeNiro in a way that said, "what now, bitch?!"... the TV went black. Son. of. a. bitch. I want to know what happened.
And then the whole cabin shook. Like an earthquake.
Matt E. D-O-V-E for safety as far from the window as he could, tumbling into the bathroom as Sonja opened the door, pulling down one of the parents on top of himself as a living shield. A rather large tree crashed over the roof and snapped between the cabin we were in and the one beside it. Eight 20-somethings, one 12-year-old, and a few adults dislodged elbows and knees from other's orifices and stared out at the storm that has since obscured the other islands into a gray haze.
The first thing out of anyone's mouth: "That was freaking AWESOME!"
Someone helped Matt to his feet.
"Tossing aside small children and the elderly to save yourself, huh?"
"Yeah. I'm just curious how high the number is going to climb before you're done telling this story."
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