Meanwhile, the stealth bomber locks its sights on these tiny urban dwellers with silly little notions of various outdoor activity. The entire city is in the cross hairs and click! – the heat bombs fall. Then BOOM! – the oppressive missiles crash and explode on all the unsuspecting victims, killing just about every one. Bodies are draped over bus benches, dried tongues hanging out of their dehydrated mouths. The whole city is devastated.
Luckily, though, I’m safe and locked up in my bomb shelter with the air conditioner set to 65 energy-wasting degrees.
If I had to write an open letter to Sacramento, it would look a little something like this:
Dear Sacramento,
Look, pal. It’s bad enough you swelter us during the summer, and I understand you’ve gotten all caught up in the instant gratification craze that we all suffer from, but can’t you wait a little bit longer before you pelt us with your triple digits? I mean, seriously.
Also, would it kill you to cool down sooner in the evenings? Certain event organizers (I won’t name names, because I don’t actually know them, but maybe they know who they are) insist on holding events outside. At 5pm!!! The hottest part of the day.
Speaking as a former long-sleeve-wearing, wool-uniform-even-in-the-summer-donning, marching member of the Sacramento Youth Band, I beseech you to cool off! I’m stuck here. Many of us are stuck here. We are all but naked before you, peeling off our wet perspiration-soaked rags, secreting salty, watery fluid from the glands in our skin – not to mention, sweating to death. We beg you, stay away from the One-oh-somethings!
And if you can’t avoid the hot hot summer, could you at least wait until the goll-durned summer before we are doomed to feast in all your blistering glory? Have mercy, already!
Your loving, albeit panting citizen,
Nanny Goats In Panties
