Hurricane Diary, Sunday, 07:15:23 EDT

August 28, 2011

The majestic island of Manhattan, no longer visible in the storm, is consumed, say the Brooklyn hipster meteorologists, by wind and rain and the wraith of non-denominational gods drunk on cheap PBR and expensive whiskey. 

We pray the neighbors’ swimming pool will be spared.

The younger members of our enclave have barricaded the doors to hold back the people across the hall, whom we believe will try to eat us when their meagre food stores are exhausted. The older members of our enclave are quietly making plans to eat the younger members of our enclave when our meagre food stores are exhausted.

(24 hours later)

Annnnnnnd Scene! OK Mr. Mayor, you can turn the subways on now, thank you.