Why, hello, Irene. I’d say it’s nice to meet you, but I’d be lying. I didn’t like your friend Gaston in ’05–he showed up without calling first, flashing his orange skies. I really didn’t like your friend Floyd, Mister 1999, who led to the panic which directly or indirectly– we’ll never really know– led to the destruction of my car while I, my pup, and my future hubby were all in it.
And, as for Hugo, we only speak of him with a leaden lump in our stomachs– and he was here a long twenty-two years ago.
So, dearest Irene, I don’t like your wind, and I don’t like your rain. I don’t like the hot, humid air that you’re pushing before you, and I can’t say that I’m fond of you expediting the erosion of our local beach. If you would be so kind as to push your big behind somewhere else, preferably to the northeast, as I know that the rest of the East Coast– primarily the Outer Banks in NC and Long Island, NY– doesn’t wish to make your acquaintance either. If you do feel the need to knock on their doors, which at this point I have no doubt that you will, please make your visit brief and leave them in relative peace.
So, what I’m saying here is good night, Irene. Please don’t cause me to weep, don’t cause me to mourn– you’ve already caused many to leave their homes. Good bye, Irene. Go away.
EDIT: Playing with the buttons means you can accidently ‘Like’ your own page. You just can’t unlike it. Not that I dislike it. I’m sure you get my point. I fail at technology.