by Chris Haire
Last night, tornadoes came to my neighborhood, robbing little old ladies of their life savings and young men of their dignity.
But I beat back the winds, with only a trash can and a feather duster. The Storm of the Century was no match.
Afterward, the weather men and I got drunk on the flood waters and feasted on the flotsam floating down the Crosstown.
It was a storm the likes of which we will never see again ... that is if we saw it in the first place.