Blanderwheel (Part 1)
OSCAR BUCKLE WAS RUNNING like his life depended on it.
Because his life did depend on it.
Because what had only a moment ago been a tremendous but manageable amount of rain was now anything but manageable.
It was now life-threatening.
It was now the worst of the worst of the worst of rains.
It was a blanderwheel.1
And everybody knew—
You didn’t go outside in a blanderwheel.
So Oscar ran.
And ran.
He ran as great bolts of lightning shot across the sky.
He ran as the clouds split open and dumped buckets of rain down over the earth.
He ran as the ground beneath him began to shake and tremble with—
Footnote
1 A rain of epic, monsoon-like proportions. Dangerous. Avoid at all costs.