Outbreak

Friday, March 2, 2012

The storm slashed through at 5:35.
The House of Snicketts had seen weather moderately worse than the small House of Silverspoon II.
Walking up the path, a large pile of hail sat lumped together like salted snow, just off the porch.
“The buns were really scared,” said Carrie. “They kept thumping.”
No damage, however.
It didn’t take Puck long to find the tub of Legos waiting for him on the living room floor, which was quickly pressed into towering skyscrapers.
The sky was that strange ghostly light in the northeast. One side of the house was white light, the other dark. Sort of like a black and white cookie. Lightening crackled.
Mom prepared cream of wheat in the buttery glow of the kitchen to the simpering strains of Ravel…
“Ug. Why do we have to listen to this romantic stuff?” Carrie asked, rolling her eyes.
And then that greenish pallor.
Hail, in a million white pebbles.
Linnea threw open the front door, rushing back inside with a blanket thrown around her shoulders. She then got busy building a blanket tent with Puck, bedouin style once again, an abode the cats and bunnies also appreciated.
Everyone scanned the radar off and on between cells, including Joe, who emerged from the basement for English muffins. Tornado watches littered the southern quarter of the state and into Illinois and other states in the south.
Dad, of course, went running.
The mid-morning found Carrie preparing yeast bread, which turned into a rather artisan-looking product. The previous day she had drummed up homemade dilly bars involving coconut oil which reportedly tasted better than the “real thing”.
Carrie snatched Snuggles as the bread baked.
“Come on, Snugs. It’s time to de-weaponize you.”

It was shortly before four o’clock while Puck was learning about quicksand in The Happy Hollisters, that Curly called up Joe to check in about the tornadic system moving through Nashville.
Puck was talking about growing grass in a dish.
“And I will fill it with grass. With life. Because grass is life. I’m going to make lots and lots of life, ok, Mama?”
He and Collette played extensive rounds of “Shoot the Styrofoam Rod Wrapped in Plastic” up and down the stairs for a period of time while Joe, in the dining room, listened to police scanners in the Nashville area.
Mom and Carrie returned with two large Aldi pizzas and a bottle of robin’s egg blue nail polish for Carrie. Also, a DVD collection of KSDK Forest Park specials for Rose, who had taken off work early at 2:30. As the pizzas went into the oven, Magnus arrived as the tornado updates were covered on National News, an outbreak apparently being compared to the super outbreak of 1974.

Collette hitched a ride with the boys. On the way, they dropped by Starbuck’s for coffee and splash sticks, followed up with Magnus’ selection of German electronic hip-hop crunk rap.
Madeline, or “Cat”, as Rose had taken to calling her, had learned to sleep at nights on her cat bed.
“I sent my coworker a picture of a duck on the roof,” Rose said early on. “Or goose, I guess. And he flies up there and he quacks all day.”
Magnus lounged on the rug with Madeline…
“Catty, catty, catty, catty, catty. Classy catty.”
“Classy stupid catty,” Rose added, as she stared at her plate of pizza.
Madeline sniffed Magnus’ shoes.
“What is it with cats and my shoes?”
Magnus came swaggering in with a glass of apple juice leftover from his birthday and singing to Joe…
“Out of the thousand… invitations..”
“Little did you know that I spiked the apple juice,” Rose cackled.
The kids made a dash to Schnuck’s for drinks and Redbox.
OLeif arrived with boxes of Little Debbie’s and Stax potato chips.
So it was Midnight in Paris, opening with a set of pretentious American tourists embarking on a wine and cheese tasting…
“I’d splash the wine in his face,” Rose announced.
Madeline tried to steal the show, however. Batting at crumpled balls of Dove chocolate foil. Sniffing at a ball of Babybel cheese wax fallen to the floor…
“Oh no!” Rose cried. “She’s eating the wax! Magnus, grab it!”
“What? Eeew.”
She meandered over to Joe next, like a slinky Egyptian minxy fox creature.
“Tswstzt!”
“Ah! The cat sneezed in my face!”
She made her way next over to Magnus’ shoes and gave them another sniff…
“What is it with cats and my shoes?”
Then she prowled over to Magnus himself, who was lounging on the rug, and planted herself on his stomach.
Joe exited for the laser pointer to distract the feline. As he departed the room, he jumped over Magnus, landing like air on the other side.
“Wow. That is impressive,” Magnus noted.
“Yeah, I’d fall through the floor if I did that,” OLeif agreed.
“I had a lot of practice jumping over Carrie,” Joe replied, as if that explained everything.
“We learned when we were very young,” Rose added.
“Wait,” Joe said later, watching the 1920’s two romantics on screen saunter down a stone staircase lit by lampposts. “They didn’t have electricity back then.”
He grinned.
“Yeah,” OLeif agreed. “That was before people wore pants.”
As the film continued into the nine o’clock hour, OLeif was stuffing himself with snacks, trying to relieve the coffee table of the “too much food” he had purchased.
“Toss me one of those swirly things, Joe,” he nodded to the box of strawberry shortcake rolls.
Joe gave a fast throw as the cake punched through the air and landed on the floor.
“Oops. Sorry about that. Hope it’s not contaminated.”
“No worries,” OLeif replied. “It’s not real food anyway.”
Apparently rich social events in 1920’s Paris called for stuffed tigers, bunnies, and seven-foot white cranes.
“That is a ridiculous amount of taxidermy,” OLeif observed. “…I’m glad I had the chance to say that tonight.”