It was a dark and stormy night and when it was spent, the sultry sun rose and brought with it a humid morning. The air so thick and heavy it pressed against you.
... like I was there dude.... scary
It pressed against you like a blanket, fresh out of the dollar clothes washer at a cheap laundromat, the kind of laundromat in a run-down town that has seen better days. The kind of laundromat that has an old, wrinkly attendant on duty; the kind of attendant that has the job only because her life has treated her unkindly, and she's had nowhere else to go. The kind of attendant who's made one mistake too many, and now has nowhere to go.
Several billion trillion tons of superhot exploding hydrogen nuclei rose slowly above the horizon and managed to look small, cold and slightly damp.
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An entry for the Bulwer-Lytton Award?
"It was a dark and stormy night; the rain fell in torrents--except at occasional intervals, when it was checked by a violent gust of wind which swept up the streets (for it is in London that our scene lies), rattling along the housetops, and fiercely agitating the scanty flame of the lamps that struggled against the darkness."
--Edward George Bulwer-Lytton, Paul Clifford (1830)