Testing My Code-fu

After more than three decades in Hell I moved back to the state where I spent my childhood I now live in a bucolic little town where birds chirp daily and the tourists are as thick as flies on pie.

The winter is less infested and I frequently frequent the local watering holes in those months.

The local paper comes out on Wednesdays

The town’spaper comes out on Wednesdays, so on that day I usually swing into the saloon, pick up the

saloon

saloon

saloon

Suddenly the earth began to heave beneath our feet. Great, jagged gaps split the street into quaking islands of melting asphalt and exploding concrete. I looked up to see Charity blow its cap and spew glowing lava thousands of feet into the air.

shanks into the pyre consuming the which

AN EDIFYING CALAMITY

After more than three decades in Hell I moved back to the state where I spent my childhood. I now live in a bucolic little town where birds chirp like hippies on acid and the tourists are as thick as flies on pie.

The winter is less infested and I frequently frequent the local watering holes in those months.

The town’spaper comes out on Wednesdays, so on that day I usually swing into a popular home town saloon, to peruse the rag and see what my neighbors are up to.

There’s a new hostess this day, and she asks if she can help me. I tell her that I’m just picking up the paper to read while a down a beer or two.

She says, “Awesome.”

Sorry, I know I’m weak, can’t let it pass, “You think it’s awesome that a fat, middle aged man would pick up the local paper to read over a coupla beers?”

“Um, yeah … awesome”

I resist the urge to smile benignly and push through the slatted swinging half-doors into the bar.

After seven years, the mounted heads of bulls, buffalo and moose that hang from the walls hardly even register. The punched tin ceiling still gets my attention.

Elaine, the bartender, nods as I sidle up. She pours me a Mirror Pond and a shot of JD and slides the weekly sign-up sheet for the Texas Hold ‘Em game in front of me. I resign myself to losing another fifty bucks and put my name on it.

After a few high-end boil-makers and small talk I pay the tab and take a walk.

The hostess was leaving at the same time, so I held the door for her while she chirped into her cell phone.

Suddenly the earth began to heave beneath our feet. Great, jagged gaps split the street into quaking islands of melting asphalt and exploding concrete. I looked up to see Charity blow its cap and spit glowing lava into the face of heaven.

The sky now only spoke only thunder; the air tore its hair out by the roots and threw the shanks into the pyre consuming the 1.6 million square acres that hold the town in their arms.

The sky was a madwoman dancing in flaming sheets of red, gold and orange, spinning a purple veil through a pillar of ash five miles high. Her gleeful cackling rose over the cracking wind, rending of rock and screams of horror.

I grabbed the new hostess and tried to pull her away from the gaping earth, but she was spiked to the spot by terror. Her round eyes were filled with it, her mouth agape; the cell phone quite forgotten.

Just before the pyroclastic flow consumed her I heard her say, “Wow! That’s … that’s …” but she didn’t have a word for it, poor dear.

I did, though. “… Awesome …” I said to myself as I sped away in my Jeep, “Now that’s awesome!”

So, anything like that ever happen to you? An edifying calamity coming just in time to illustrate the misuse of a word? Please share.