So, I was driving near Sun Devil Stadium after a particularly harrowing meeting when the sky suddenly opened up and a deluge the likes I had never seen hit the desert. Within moments, it was flooding everywhere. Normally dry riverbeds were gushing with water. People were running about screaming, “What is that stuff, it makes my face wet,” or “The sky is falling!, The sky is falling!” If the Cardinals were playing at home, I’m sure they would have needed water wings.

Phoenix is full of wimps.

Fortunately, I was prepared for this precipitous occasion, and was able to dodge the cars skidding/floating off the highway on my way to the airport (I use both definitions of precipitous: My meeting was indeed seemingly insurmountable and unyielding, like that of a huge rock cliff, and the day did tend towards wetness.).

This epic flood was not unlike my point total this week against the Toads, who, though being aquatic, still had never seen so much water at one time and was heard shouting “No Mas!, No Mas.” The usually mighty Naja Naja met the seemingly insurmountable Big Red, who would not yield to these women (Pat, you chauvinist pig!). The Ascenders ascended to the zenith of the precipice, leaving the Scorpions in the desert. Sunami? What Sunami? There are no earthquakes in the desert, hence, no Tsunamis to quench the Flame, who stood high above the flood waters, and being prepared, stood out of the rain. Jumanji went down the drain. The Cheez Heads had (yellow, GB trademarked) water wings. Though both thoroughly familiar with water, the Bottom Feeders, unable to fight years of evolutionary conditioning*, stayed on the bottom while the Norsemen sailed across the surface, almost unaware of the flounder below.

* If one belives in that hooey. They really couldn’t help it because God made them that way.

Co-Missioner
Brian