A flurry of coronaries in the overnight forecast,
so watch what you're putting in those arteries
and try not to get too stressed out over nothing.
Those dark clouds of fate on the horizon
could mean accident precipitation, so be alert
if you're commuting home, and if you're someone
who works with industrial machinery, well,
don't put any body parts where they shouldn't be.
Our cancer alert remains in effect
for the 1,803rd straight day (since we've been
on the air, in fact): smokers take heed!
And if you happen to be Mrs. Hilda Rigsby,
do not walk down Coralview Avenue at 10:38
this evening. In fact, don't go anywhere near
that street, not even to satisfy your curiosity
as to why you've been warned away
from a place you've never heard of.
Consider this a special gift from our fatecasters to you.
Mrs. Rigsby, we hope you're watching us tonight.
Copyright © 2003 Mike Allen
Mike Allen lives in Roanoke, with his wife Anita, two rambunctious puppies and a cranky old cat. By day, he's a newspaper reporter. In his off-hours, he edits Mythic Delirium, DNA Publications' poetry journal. His poetry and fiction have appeared in Absolute Magnitude, Altair, Weird Tales, and Strange Horizons. He is the author of two poetry collections, Defacing the Moon and the newly-released Petting the Time Shark. His previous publications in Strange Horizons can be found in our Archive. To contact Mike, email hangman@infionline.net.