Just A Couple Days Later, Jr Is Back. Hes Leaning Against That House Again. You Stop By Him On Your Way

Just a couple days later, Jr is back. He’s leaning against that house again. You stop by him on your way to school with Sam, “Hey! Welcome back!” You know last time you saw him, you got into a fight, but isn’t that every time? Hopefully he’ll not take it too seriously… He nods, “Thanks…” But he’s distracted. His eyes are on Sam. You watch as his gaze slowly finds its way to his hickey, peeking out of his shirt. Sam blushes and covers it and Jr smirks. You get in his line of sight, “Ok, I know he’s your brother, but you can hold in the sex jokes ‘til I’m not around. I’m not interested in listening to you tease the living daylights out of him. Let’s be civil now.” Jr grins devilishly and Sam tugs on your shirt, “Come on, let’s go to school. There ain’t no way he’s keeping his big mouth shut…” Jr shrugs, “You’re the one going around with it on display Mr. Shy Boy…” Sam blushes deeper and tugs harder at your shirt. You glare at Jr, “Jerk,” and head to school. Jr’s laugh follows you and Sam as you head down the street. Sometimes you wonder if Jr will ever be nice. Aren’t jerky boys, like, supposed to change when they meet a girl? Aren’t they supposed to, like, “realise the errors of their ways” and all that? Well, it’s taking an annoyingly long time for Jr….

The Maid

Boston and his parents had been living in the same house for years. Ever since he could remember. It was an old thing made of brick. It had a big fireplace with a chimney. Boston used to love watching smoke come out of it. Out the front door was a wide porch, taking up the whole front of the house. On the porch was a swing that Boston used to play on. Out the back door there was a set of stairs and a giant oak tree with a rope hanging from it. Except Boston’s parents said there wasn’t, but there was. The maid said she could see it too so Boston knew it was. The maid only used the back door. She said she wasn’t allowed to use the front door, since she was just a maid. Boston had wanted to convince his parents to let her use the front door, but she had said that they wouldn’t let her play with him anymore if he tried to. He wasn’t sure why, but he wanted to keep playing with her, so he didn’t. One time he had asked her why his parents always ignored her. She had said it was because the adults were supposed to pretend the maid didn’t exist. Boston had thought that was very mean, but she had told him not to tell them that either or they might get her in trouble. Boston hadn’t wanted to get her in trouble, so he hadn’t said anything and had started to pretend she didn’t exist around his parents as well. As he got older, it became habit to not talk about her. He started to accept that that was just how maids were treated, though he never ignored her when they were alone, no matter how old he got. She seemed happy about that. Often she would wake him in the middle of the night to play with her. He had tried to teach the kids at school the games she taught him, but he got in trouble. The teachers told him he shouldn’t hurt people. He had tried to explain that he just wanted to see how much they could take before begging him to stop. It was just a game! Instead of understanding, they would suspend him. When he tried to explain that the cuts up his arms and across his fingers were from him playing and that the bruises around his neck were just pretend, but, instead of wanting to play with him, they would send him to counseling. They told his parents he was “self harming”. He tried to explain that he wasn’t doing it, that it was a friend, but when they asked who, he couldn’t tell, since the maid said if he did, she’d get fired. Then they wouldn’t be able to play anymore.

Wow this is amazing. I'm not around any hurricane zones or even close and I actually didn't even know there was such thing as a hurricane party. Things like this give me hope because, when it matters, when it REALLY matters, people are GOOD. Yes, there's that two percent who aren't, but in general they are. Like these are strangers going to people's houses and staying there and these people are welcoming them into their homes because they NEED that. They're looking out for each other and taking care of each other. I just think that no matter what others might say, people are amazing and no matter what happens we're gonna get through it because we're human and that's what we DO and I think that's awesome.

The Downlow on Hurricane Parties

Okay *presses hands together*I’ve been seeing a shit ton of posts about these and no actual explanations about How Living In a Hurricane Zone actually fucking works. Like - socially. 

Reciepts:  I was made homeless by 2 hurricanes in my life - once at 8 and again at 17. I have also ridden out more hurricanes than I can remember. I grew up in Hurricane Alley in florida and I have a tshirt from my senior year that says I Survived Hurricane High School because our senior year was so fucked by Hurricane Ivan no less than a 1/3rd of the student body was displaced. Aside from my parents divorce it’s probably the single most impactful thing to ever happen to me.

So let me explain a thing to those of you who don’t have hurricanes.

There’s a few types of hurricanes that make landfall on the continental US. There are REALLY BAD hurricanes - like Katrina and Harvey. Those are the ones where all you can do is Fucking Run.

But then? There’s the Less Bad Hurricanes.Those are insanely windy and full of rain and trees come down and shit gets bad but like…mostly, you get through it by hunkering down - boarding up the windows with plywood or specially made hurricane shutters(actually a thing, we had them on my house) bring in everything you have outside your house and plying it up in your living room and then just waiting shit out. Wild right?

If you live in Hurricane Alley, you realize, hey, for a Less Bad Hurricane, higher ground is all I really need. That is still an evacuation, it’s just not a  Fucking Run full evacuation. When you evacuate to higher ground you almost always end up at Someone’s House and often, whoever’s place you end up at is putting up 2+families and so are other people in that area because that’s the Higher Ground.

Here’s what’s happens. The whole goddamn town shuts down. This is one of the few times capitalism comes to a grinding halt (unless you work at Waffle House. That motherfucker stays open until you pass Cat3 because they’re more intrepid than any fucking US Marine) and the whole town shuts down. There’s power - until there isn’t. There’s water - until there isn’t. 

And then? 

There’s just you and the people you’re trapped in a house with for hours if not days.

What you end up with is a lot of people in one place, sharing their supplies of water and food because they have to - gathered in the ONE place that might have a generator - WHICH YOU CANNOT RUN ALL THE TIME ANYWAY, DON’T LISTEN TO ANYONE WHO TELLS YOU DIFFERENTLY - when the weather is wet and also 90+ degrees, because you gotta remember this only happens in the summer. Schools are closed so a lot of the time, people are trapped in small places with their kids who dont know each other that well and cannot go outside and play which is a nightmare because did I mention the electricity is down? Yeah, this is literally the start of a fucking horror movie. 

Because on top of that, after a certain point, the sun is going to go down. You may have candles but not THAT many and you wanna save them so you can’t read.

And what are you going to do with that time? Seriously, what? Fam you gotta TALK to each other to pass the time.

Plus?  All the adults are fucking stressed out. Aside from the host, no one is in their own home and they’re scared. They might pretend they’re not but they are. They may not be scared for they’re life but they’re afraid for their property and their friends who didn’t come with them and they’re afraid for what’s going to happen when that motherfucker makes landfall and and and. 

You know what makes that experience easier (on the adults at least)? Alcohol (and weed if you’re in Florida where that shit is legal) and revelry and generally being playful, letting the kids play too, maybe getting a brightly colored cake that makes the whole experience less terrifying. 

And lo, hurricane parties. 

So yeah. That’s what’s going on with hurricanes.

That’s whats going to keep going on with hurricanes as the climate crisis continues.

And if you try and guilt and shame people out of their coping mechanisms and survival tactics that scientists and survival experts have proven work (seriously, I went to a panel on how to survive an apocalypse and the first advice they gave was Throw A Party) then you’re just wrong. Stop harshing people and start being supportive. Things are only going to get worse as we move forward and trust me when I tell you, a good hurricane party can save sanity and lives. 

No Una Historia Damur

So we've come to the conclusion of N.U.H.D. I hope you guys enjoyed it! I wanted to try out a story from a side characters point of view and figure out how I would write it. N.U.H.D. was kind of my guinea pig lol. Hope I did OK! I'll be posting my next story soon. This one will be much shorter and was just an idea that popped in my head, a concept really, so we'll see how that one goes XD Once again I hope you enjoyed N.U.H.D. and can't wait to get my next one out! Be looking forward to it, it's coming soon! :D

I finally got the first part of the story up! Sorry it took so long, I got very busy for a moment there! Life kinda happened lol. Anyway I hope you enjoy it, it was just an idea I had, but I don't feel like it has enough basis to make a full story out of, so it'll be more like a short story :)

Watching my toddler figure out how to language is fascinating. Yesterday we were stumped when he kept insisting there was a “Lego winner” behind his bookshelf - it turned out to be a little Lego trophy cup. Not knowing the word for “trophy”, he’d extrapolated a word for “thing you can win”. And then, just now, he held up his empty milk container and said, “Mummy? It’s not rubbish. It’s allowed to be a bottle.” - meaning, effectively, “I want this. Don’t throw it away.” But to an adult ear, there’s something quite lovely about “it’s allowed to be a bottle,” as if we’re acknowledging that the object is entitled to keep its title even in the absence of the original function.