Arrr, mateys! Floridians be countin' Milton's spoils, preparin' fer a long, stormy sail to recovery!
2024-10-10
Arrr, a handful o' days past, Rick Conflitti and his lass were ponderin' if they should hightail it from their wooden shack ‘fore Hurricane Milton crashed ashore. "Ye can’t tempt fate, matey!" Rick beamed at NPR, as the winds be whistlin' a merry tune!
Avast, me hearties! Gather 'round for a tale of a landlubber named Rick Conflitti and his fair lass, who found themselves in a pickle 'fore the tempest known as Hurricane Milton set to unleash its fury upon their humble abode. Aye, the winds be howlin' and the sea be churnin', and their wooden shack lay perilously near the Peace River, a veritable siren call for disaster!Now, Rick, with the wisdom of a old sea dog, pondered whether to hightail it from their dwelling or stay put, playin’ dice with Davy Jones himself. “Ye can’t risk it!” he proclaimed, soundin’ like a captain rallying his crew before a mighty battle with the storms of the deep!
With the winds roarin’ like a hungry sea monster and the waves crashin’ like a cannonade, Rick and his lass weighed their options like a pair o’ scallywags choosing between grog and rum. Would they brave the stormy seas or take to their heels, beggin’ for mercy from the tempest? In the end, they’d best be heedful o' the weather, for no pirate worth his salt would tamper with Mother Nature, lest he find himself swimmin’ with the fishes! Arrr!