Fay stormed into Florida this morning, joining the other Fays, Lucilles, Sophies, and Estelles who had come before her. With her soaking rains and gusty winds, she interrupted some Mahjong games, yet she was not as destructive as expected. Her rain swept across desolate streets littered with palm fronds, reminiscent of the wallpaper behind her credenza in the den. There were no reports of storm surge damage, but Fay's butcher always liked to say her bark was worse than her bite.
Police had a curfew in place. Oh, like Fay doesn't know about curfews? You don't think her sons Mort and Jeffrey had to get home before wild stuff started to happen in the streets? Warnings for people to take precautions had been issued. National Guard troops were at the ready, 200 truckloads of water and 52 truckloads of food were available for distribution. Those who had Thanksgiving or seder by Fay know that would have been maybe one meal.
Fay never achieved her predicted hurricane status, yet another thing for her to complain about, along with the bunions and the way Irv's wife treated him.
Bingo to whomever named this one Fay!