Flash Fiction 5/26/20. W/C 300
“I’m sorry, Mr. Gregory. We just cannot approve another glass door for your patio. This is the fourth time this year. What’s going on that you need another door? Your insurance will only pay for two each year. After that, you’ll have to pay full price.”
Tim glanced out the shattered patio door. Glass littered the kitchen floor. He let out a huge sigh. Hailstones the size of baseballs littered the grass along with tree limbs and leaves. Another storm. The fourth this spring. He was half afraid to tell the insurance guy about the windows and roof and gutters.
“Oh, well, you know, it was a low pressure system sitting here over us. Tightly packed isobars. The barometric pressure dropped through the roof. The radar was technicolor. I tell you it was a storm of Biblical proportions. It’s a wonder the whole town is still here. In fact, everyone in town was affected.” Tim’s wife and children were still in the basement. They were afraid to come up, sure another hailstorm was imminent.
“We’ll have to send a disaster team out to take some pictures and do an assessment, Mr. Gregory. That will take a few days to get them out your way. Do you need anything else from us in the meantime?” The insurance guy paused for a moment. “If not, then….”
“Well, there is something you could do.” Tim pulled the shades across the open space where the door used to be.
“I’ll try to help. If we can do it, then we’ll send it your way.” AAA Insurance guy took another pause.
“You wouldn’t happen to know of any abandoned missile silo for sale? You know, something underground? Nuclear proof?”
There was silence for a moment longer. “I’ll be sending that disaster team your way soon.”