Dante’s Inferno: Redux


Last Wednesday I attempted to escape the horrendously blazing inferno that’s been roasting the entire East Coast of America savagely for weeks, it seems. Packing up the Cooper with my necessities for at least seven days, if needed, I made a mostly swift beeline to the coast of Maine, making it in ten and one-half hours to the front desk of my motel. The most sensational thunder and lightning storm with pouring-down, monsoon-like rain kept me wide-awake for the final leg of my trip—the battery in my phone was dead; otherwise, I would have been filming it. After the deluge, upon my arrival, it felt like a steaming sauna outside. A heavy fog and mist were hovering well above the pavement.
The next few days in Vacationland were quite pleasant, although still unusually hot and somewhat humid for that region of the country. I would have died without air-conditioning or at least a fan in my motel room at night. The seething temps finally subsided considerably on Saturday and Sunday, with my having to wear a leather jacket on the night before I left the beautiful area for returning home to find it more reasonably uncomfortable, hot, muggy and dreary in Philadelphia.

How hot was it during the past couple of weeks? The following are only the tip of the iceberg, sort of an oxymoron in itself:

    It was so hot, the dad-burned Canadian Geese around here all flew back to the Great White North.

    It was so hot my eggs from the market were hard-boiled by the time I put them in the fridge.

    It was so hot my brain overheated.

    It was so hot the cacti plants outside in the garden wilted.

    It was so hot the plastic ice-cube tray melted while out on the kitchen counter.

    It was so hot the barbeque grill self-ignited without propane.

    It was so hot the Bactrian camel at the Philly Zoo grew another hump and is now the world’s first three-hump camel.

    It was so hot steadfast conservatives now believe in Global Warming.

    It was so hot Hell allowed air-conditioners.

    It was so hot bathing in the sauna was a relief.

    It was so hot my antiperspirant applicator was sweating.

    It was so hot my smartphone overloaded and shut down during a conversation.

    It was so hot brain freeze from eating ice cream was virtually impossible.

    It was so hot the word “cold” was temporarily stricken from Merriam Webster’s dictionary.

Lastly, it’s been so hot I never thought I’d be wishing for fall so soon!

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About Mike Slickster

As an early retiree with an honorary doctorate degree from the proverbial "School of Hard Knocks," this upcoming author with a lot of free time on his hands utilizes his expansive repertoire for humorous yet tragic, wildly creative writing that contains years of imaginative fantasy, pure nonsense, classic slapstick, extreme happiness and searing heartbreak; gathered by a wealth of personal experiences throughout his thrilling—sometimes mundane or unusually horrid—free-spirited, rock-'n'-roller-coaster ride around our beloved Planet Earth. Mike Slickster's illustrious quest continues, living now in Act Three of his present incarnation, quite a bit on the cutting edge of profundity and philosophical merriment as seen through his colorful characters, most notably evident in the amusing Thirty Days Across the Big Pond series, all of which can be found at Lulu.com.
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2 Responses to Dante’s Inferno: Redux

  1. shirleyann21 says:

    Turning up the heat

    Now I’m beginning to think this heat treatment is a kind of payback Mike. Your secret is out! (You’re a secret Barry Manalow fan? ) today the song ” Can’t smile with you” will be stuck in your head for at least ten hours !

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