A certain young family man down the road a piece got home from work just in time to see the henhouse from across the road blow past (without the hens), and as he pulled up to his mobile. he sat in horror as the top ripped off the place like the lid off a tin can in the freak 103mph wind, rain, lightning storm (hurricane-force winds) we had in Sandy Valley, Nevada (USA) back in the 1980s. (We even saw the funnel cloud!)
He went indoors to see the rain falling into his open house, and to experience first one, then two then three, then the forth wall fall outward so that his erstwhile home became a 12' by 60' flatbed, completely furnished.
Stunned himself, he found his wife with potato in one hand, peeler in the other, and mouth open in shock. His two little kids were under the bed in the bedroom, crying their eyes out. None of them could quite believe their eyes. And ears.
As soon as the storm swept by, in less than two minutes, he was back outside. It seems he had only lost one thing out of the mobile and that was his marijuana.
He spent the next 3 months stomping around the desert looking for his pot and grumbling because, as he saw it, God had taken all his _fun_ away.
Aside from the chicken-house, his was the only home of any kind that was damaged by the storm, which was good, because his was the only mobile that had any insurance on it, and the major predominance of homes in the valley were mobil homes.
As the months wore on with him complaining about his lost pot, seeing only that, and not the miracle that his family was spared and his home and belongings replaced, we all wondered how he could be so blind as not to take the hint to give up pot and treasure his family, instead.
But as long as I lived in the valley, he was still first and foremost a smoker and a toker, and a thick-headed joker.
Tags: home, hurricane, marijuana, mobile, nevada, sandy, smoker, toker, tornado, valley
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