An Open Letter to Mark Mardon, AKA the Weather Wizard

Dear Mark:

You win. I've obtained the $15 million in unmarked bills. It wasn't easy, if you're interested. Between the third and fourth layer of bundles, you'll find a small, lead-lined box. Inside is the Flash's ring, as well as the blueprints for the first three levels of the Hall of Justice. As promised, in one week you will receive, via UPS (no return address—you know where to find me, obviously) bootleg (yet complete) DVDs of seasons 4 and 5 of Lost, the new iPhone, and the names, birthdates and delivery location of Angelina Jolie's twins. The Flash ring was hard to figure out at first, but I did it. I'm not proud, but this was our agreement.

So, we're square, right? We're even? The deal's done? Good. So go ahead and knock it off with the shitty fucking weather already. It's rained, snowed or just been generally ugly every single day so far this year. Some days, I'd think we were in the clear, and then around 4 p.m., the sky opened. This morning, Bandit woke me up at 3:30, barking at thunder. Nothing that cute should ever be called an asshole, yet I had to do it, because of your crappy storms. The other day, I had to hand out flashlights at work. Come on. It's almost summer, yo, I should not have a jacket in my car "just in case" for another five months. Take your money and leave me be with a warm, sunny June. It's all I've ever wanted.

Watching the skies,
Ryan B