There is some sort of strange SUV convention going on next door. I’m sitting here, minding my own business, finishing Pompeii for book club and getting in my hour on the bawks, and twelve SUVS drive up next door. Vroom, park, slam. Vroom, park, slam. Twelve times. A few minutes pass, and then it is slam, park, vroom. Twelve times. I have no explanation for this.
Here is the bawk, though. Does it look frightened? Alarmed and greenish because it knows that the odd goings-on next door are signs of — Hmm… Recent reading offers me signs of impending doom of various kinds. Volcanoes about to erupt and destroy all the decadent Romans… a global flood preparing to wipe out all living things… the Four Horseman of the Apocalypse getting out their motorcycles to prepare the end of the world… war and devastation striking down the bridegroom and the farmers…
Well, no, actually, A strange gathering of SUVs in a quiet street doesn’t actually fit in with any of those scenarios, does it? I guess we’re okay.