azlk make god laugh

At Miami, I try to get another bus but nobody
wants to take the time to talk with me. I go into my Frank
Rizzo routine, scream, yell and terrorize everyone at the
Greyhound station. Finally, one of the Greyhound workers
allows as how there's a car rental place half-a-mile from the
bus station. Mongo and I heft our luggage and carry it out
into the sauna of a September afternoon in Florida, trudge
half-a-mile and finally rent a Lincoln Town Car.

We then take the Turnpike and head straight up
the middle of the State. We decide to stop running in the
thriving metropolis of a town called "Okeechobee"
(all the characters from "King of the Hill" live
here) and get two of the only motel rooms left between Miami
and Orlando. By the way, a curious thing happened as we were
checking in. The guy at the desk gets a call, rolls his eyes
heavenward and says, "No Ma'am, I'm sorry. We do not have a pool."

Think about it: Thousands of cars are clogging
the highways as people flee the coming storm. The airways are
filled with emergency alerts and instructions. Entire families
are reduced to staying in a single motel room. The storm looms
closer, closer, closer. And here's this daffy bitch, so
unconscious of what's happening around her, she wants to
know...

"Does
The Hotel Have A Pool?"

"No
Ma'am. It don't. But don't you worry. In two more days the
whole damn State will be... nothing but one big pool."

Well, the hurricane comes to my enchanted
islands, squats over them and savages every square foot with
hurricane force winds... that
last for 20 hours!

I'm sorry God. I beg your forgiveness. No more
wriggling my toes in the scrub and marl and being
happy-as-a-pig-in-shit. From now on, Misery
Is My Motto!

Oooh, a mosquito just bit me! Notice that God?
That sucked a little, didn't it? Oh nuts, my contact lenses
are drying out and my eyes are getting irritated and
scratched. Are you watching this God? It's at least a little
bit of a bummer, right? And hey, that spot on my jawline did
turn out to be skin cancer (a basil cell carcinoma) and I had
to have it removed. That counts for something, doesn't it? My
cats Amigo and Tiger were so traumatized by the storm, I had
to relocate both of them and actually had to hospitalize
Amigo. That's nowhere near "happy-as-a-pig-in-shit."
I swear.