Climate Corral

“Properly Bracing Yourself, as Well as Your Loved Ones, For Hurricane Impact”

by Chris Krueger


Difficulty:  On average, it’s pretty average. This really does depend on your unique housing situation, though. For example, if you live in a high end mansion, there is not much you need to do preparation wise. Your servants’ cabins should be able to withstand winds up to 85 mph. If you live in a trailer, then there is not much you can do, actually. Odds are you have many children, and you cannot afford to cram the entire family into the trailer, while still expecting to have room for flashlights, food, or any newborn infants you may have just welcomed to the family. Draw straws to see who has to rough it outside. Alternatively, you can take shifts.

Prep Time: How much time do you estimate you have between the end of this sentence, and the onset of the storm? In fact, if you stopped reading this “guide” altogether, it could save you up to five minutes. Choose wisely.

The Basics:

  • • Set a designated meeting spot in case the solidarity of your family and/or anarchic band of “chosen ones” becomes compromised. This could be as simple an area as your backyard, or front porch. You may, of course, opt for more secure areas, such as the basement, or an underground system of caverns. Also, try to make your meeting spot the place where a missing person is the most likely to be found, such as face down in a ditch.
  • • Develop a communications plan, as well as a safety word that you can all shout towards the heavens on the off chance God decides to listen and let up. The safety word should, of course, be chosen by, and blessed by, a priest.  Your familial communications system is yours and yours alone, so try to avoid clichés like sign language, cell phones, or the English language.
  • • Plan for your pets. Hurricane shelters often will not accept pets, so the best plan of action here is to give your pets human like names, such as “Mark”. This will confuse most, if not all, FEMA employees, allowing your pet entry into the government colony.

What You Need:

  • • Water. Nestle seems to be a good brand, on account of the occasional hint of chocolate in the water. On the other hand, it is a storm, so water will literally be falling from the sky. Just get some sort of bucket, really.
  • • Medication. Because of the lack of sunlight during a storm, vitamin C is a rare commodity. Be wary of scurvy.
  • • Food. Mac and Cheese is always a good choice, and you really can never go wrong with it. Making it is a simple process which can be done quickly even in the event of a hurricane:
    • o Get some fucking Mac
    • o Get some fucking cheese
    • o Put the fucking Mac in the fucking cheese
    • o Bada-Bing, Bada -Boom
    • o Mac and Cheese
    • o Bitch

In summation: puff out your chest, stand tall, and intimidate, akin to a gorilla during the mating season. If your children or your wife confide in you “I’m scared.”, the correct response is: “I’m not.”



“Weather or not”

by Peter Lingard


The skinny weatherwoman on the dumbdown news said she expected the day’s temperature to be below average for July.  Glen decided to wear his rug and a scarf as he cycled to work.  Which rug?  Blonde, not-so-blonde or light brown?  He thought of co-ordinating the piece with his clothing but as he would spend most of the day pieceless, it didn’t matter.  In any case, he’d had enough problems matching them with his eyebrows to bother too much with matching them with clothes.  Do that, and he’d be buying high-fashion shoes next!  He’d remove the wig once in his office and use it again during the ride home and, perhaps, if he went out for lunch.  His summer/winter routine never changed.  In the hot months, he wore the wig in his office to protect his sensitive pate from the icy air-conditioning.

Glen’s friend at work, Paul, thought the routine amusing.  “You’re the only person I’ve heard of who uses his wig as a warmer.  You wear it outdoors in the winter and indoors in the summer.”


A woman transferred from the Sydney office arrived for the first time.

Glen nodded in appreciation.  “She’s effable.”


“Don’t know.  We’ve haven’t met yet.  You know her?”

“No.  The word’s affable.”

“Which word?  Anyone can see she’s effable.  I’ll let you know later if she’s affable.”


“Not whatever.  A woman can be effable without being affable but they’re rarely affable without being effable.”

“Is all this worth it?”

“Do Greens hug trees?”


Later, he went head bare to the coffee machine and extended a hand.  “Hello.  I’m Glen Makepiece.  Welcome to Melbourne.”

She shook his hand firmly.  “Rosamund Wiggins.  Thanks for the welcome, but as I’m originally from Melbourne this is more of a homecoming.”

“Welcome home then.  Why’d you leave us in the first place?”

“I married a Sydneysider and moved into his.  Thankfully, I kept hold of my place in Richmond.”

“So, is it your turn now?  Has he seen the light and decided to live here?”

“Not exactly.  He died.”

“I’m saddened to hear that.  Condolences.”

“Don’t be sad.  He was a pain-in-the-arse, finicky son-of-a-bitch.”

Glen laughed.  “Well rid then.”

“Well rid indeed.”

“Look, I have to get back to the grindstone but if you’re free I’d like to take you to dinner tonight.  What say you?”

“Straight after work?”

He nodded.  “Yeah.”

“Sounds like a plan.  Six-thirty?”

“Six thirty.  I’ll come by your office.”


“Affable and effable,” he told Paul.  “We’re dinnering together.”

“Well done.  Will you wear the horsehair?”

“Don’t know.  I’ve the light brown with me today.  What do you reckon?”

“Don’t ask me!  The way you wear, or don’t wear your pieces is so strange, I can’t begin to appreciate your thought processes on the matter.”

“Nonsense!  It’s a fashion accessory and a head heater.  What’s so difficult about that?”

“Most people wear wigs to hide their baldness.  If you don’t care about your lack of hair, why bother with a wig at all?”

“You’re right; you have no idea.”

“Exactly.  Now, were you topless when you first met the lovely Miss Wiggins?”

“I was.”

“There you are, then.  Start out as you mean to go.”

“That’s one theory, but maybe I should wear it to get it out into the open.  Not spring it on her at some future date like something swept under a rug.”

“True.  I’d ask if she’s expecting to see the same man but I fear to enter that arena.  How about she’ll think you look younger with hair?  Come to that, how old is she?”

“No idea.  Early to mid-thirties?

“Yeah, ‘bout that.  Is she into younger or older men?”

“I didn’t quite get that far.”

“Toss a coin then.  Heads for hair.”




“Just a sec.  Let me run to the bathroom for a touch up.”

“No problem.  Take your time.”

She gave him a second look and he wondered if he’d said something wrong.  “Can I use your computer to check the scores?”

“Of course.  You look different.”

“I changed my tie for you.”

“Really?  Your tie?”

He smiled and she left.


Rosamund returned within five minutes.  “It’s the hair, isn’t it?  You were bald when we met.”

He grinned.  “Does that mean you don’t like my tie?”

“A tie is a tie is a tie.  A man who goes from being bald to having a full head of hair is something else.”

“Something good?”

“Something different.  It’s a something I’ll have to think about.  You’ll have to tell me what the rules are for a man who has a wig but obviously doesn’t care when he walks around bald.  Are you completely bald or do you shave you head?”

“Sixty forty.  If you don’t like it, I’ll happily put it my briefcase.”

“Noooo, I think I like it.  I liked bald too, though.”

“Well if it bugs you, just let me know and it’ll be gone.”

“Fair enough.  Come on, we should go; it’s almost seven.”


“I suppose you never have a bad hair day,” Rosamund said between mouthsful of garlic prawns.

“It can happen but when it does, I just leave my hair at home.”

“Umm, a lot of women could hate you for that capability.”

“Well, the option is available for everyone.  I’m sure more than a few women utilise wigs on a daily basis.”

“Possibly.”  She mined a spoonful of her chocolate mud cake.  “What about sex?  Do you ever wear it in a tender moment?”

“Yes.  No.  Not any more.  I optimistically believe every tender moment will become a torrid one.  But I did, once.  A woman clasped the back of my head in her most passionate moment and crashed down to the noisy depths when my hair came away in her hand.

Rosamund slapped her hand over her mouth to keep from splattering him with chocolate mud cake.  After swallowing, she said, “That could definitely curb a girl’s enthusiasm.”  She remained silent while she finished her cake.  After wiping her lips on her serviette, she said, “There’s a lot of humour in this situation and I suppose you’ve heard all the wise cracks before, but I ask you to indulge me for tonight.”

Glen smiled and nodded.

“If you become excited should I tell you to keep your hair on?”

He shrugged his shoulders.  “If I’m wearing a piece I suppose you might, but it doesn’t fly from agitation.”

She turned her lips down.  “Says he without detectable humour.  Do you ever let your hair down?”

“Only on Fridays.”

“What about one-night-stands?  Do you do one-night-stands?”

“There has been the odd occasion.”

“I’ll bet there has.  So, if you meet someone with your hair on and she invites you to hers and you don’t want the piece to be snatched off at the wrong moment, how do you remove it without freaking her out?”

“I calmly tell her I’m bald and ask her if it’ll be okay for me to remove my hair.  They’re usually cool with it.”

“You’re no fun, Glen.  I think this is a hoot.  What do you do, take it off and put it in your pocket?”

“Yeah, unless I have my briefcase or something.  Sometimes it comes off with the rest of my clothes and ends up on the floor with everything else.”

“On the floor!  Has a cat or dog ever mistaken it for a rat, or something?”

“No, and you’re reaching your limit now.  One more and you’re done, all right.”

“Let me think.  Are there dishes to put hair on a man’s head?  I mean, people say that such-and-such a dish will put hair on your chest, so why not your head?”

“There might be, but as I keep myself bald on purpose it would make much difference, other than a little extra shaving.”

“Okay.  One last question, and this time it’s a serious one.  Will you take your hair off now and keep it off for the night?  You did say I could ask.”

“It’d be my pleasure.”


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