I'm Pathetic (Thunderstorms)

When I was about ten years old, I was at a friend’s house way out in bumble fuck nowhere. There were a lot of woods around his house, but he also had huge fields on the other side. A thunderstorm came rolling in, and I started freaking out. I was deathly afraid of tornadoes. I thought every thunderstorm had the potential to turn into one. I’ve always been a bit of a pussy. I frantically had my friend’s mom call my parents to come pick me up. I remember looking out into the field, with water dripping down off the roof, and seeing lightning strike a tree. I was very sure this was going to be my final resting place. I was going to get swept up into a twister and not get the same result as that bitch Dorothy. We aren’t in Cooperstown anymore, Toto, we are in hell. I never fully got over my fear of thunderstorms, but I realized upstate New York isn’t a tornado hotbed. My dad and I used to watch the show where idiots would drive into tornadoes to “track” them. I’m not the smartest cookie, but I was raised to know you don’t usually want to run straight into danger. I never understood those people. Those shows really calmed my fears about tornadoes, but not for the future of our society. I actually think they are making a movie about those freaks. They made a great decision and put that hunk, Glen Powell, in it. Anyway, when I got home from college, there was a thunderstorm during the night. I had my windows open because it was hotter than the devil's anus. I’m a light sleeper and kept hearing bangs of thunder and claps of lightning. Every few minutes, I would jump like a cat falling into a bathtub. I also probably looked like a cat after it fell into the tub. I quickly jumped out of bed and ran into my parents' room for safety. I thought I was on my way to beating the pathetic allegations, but apparently not. I was planning on leaving out the part where I cried out of fear, but I think that's important to paint this portrait of an eighteen-year-old who is scared of weather. I’m writing this on Google Docs, and it corrects eighteen to eight because even Google thinks I'm a wuss. I’m still a child, and I think I’m okay with that for a little bit longer. Playing golf has really made lightning my enemy. There is nothing worse than wanting to play golf, and there is a thunderstorm. Actually, that isn’t true. Being almost done with your round and having to go into the clubhouse because of thunder is worse. Today, the thunderstorm was fucking with me hard. We made it so far into our round and boom! The most pathetic thunderclap. It sounded like baby thunder giving its first attempt at being big boy thunder. That little effort it gave was enough for the club to blow the horn and bring everyone in. I think rain is very playable. Thunder and lightning, sadly, are not. The weather in Cooperstown has been so great recently, but there seem to be a few thunderstorms inbound. Hopefully, I won’t cry like a bitch again, but we will see! Happy Friday, everyone!