The voice over the radio was cheerfully announcing that today was setting yet another record for a high temperature. A story which was immediately followed by a similar, yet pedantically different, story about how today also set a record for the number of consecutive record high days.
Leonard peels himself off the plastic chair and makes his way, labourously, toward the icebox.
The damn linoleum is hot on my feet, he thinks, taking his second to last Miller out of the fridge.
He cracks the cap off the bottle and steps out onto the porch, where he finds his midget neighbor Cliff, staring up at the sky in the yard next door.
“They say it’s aliens,” Cliff beings, unprompted. “Causing the heat, I mean.”
“And who’s sayin’ that?” Leonard responds drolly.
“The tabloids, of course!” he says, cheery as the radio voice.
“Cliff, shut the hell up.” Lenoard finishes the beer in a single, long swig. “It’s too hot for your crap.”
Cliff watches Leonard retreat back into his house through narrowed eyes.
Then, quite unexpectedly, Cliff jerks his pinky finger in an awkward manner, and begins to speak into it, like a telephone.
“They don’t suspect a thing, sir.”
Last year was the hottest year on record for Memphis, and today, barely into April, we kissed 90 degrees, topping out at a 88 degrees. Which is a new high record for today. I may not live to see next fall.