“Am I seeing this right?” I asked Nat, pointing at my phone screen.
On it was a radar and satellite map of a hurricane, one that would encompass the entire Gulf of Mexico.
“Yeah. It’s all hands on deck with this one. Jack and Anna-Maria are bringing basically every European storm rider with them. Everyone needs to meet in the Florida Keys in the next two hours. That doesn’t give us much time.”
“How the hell did this even happen?”
“A few times it’s happened when separate storms have collided, but this motherfucker spun up like any other storm, it just took its Viagra early on.”
“Shit. Do we have a plan beyond having a pow wow?”
“Do you have one?”
“What the hell do we even call this thing. I mean it blows away any type of scale previously thought of and super storm or hyper storm just sounds stupid.”
“Because it is. I think we should just call it ‘Motherfucking-bend-over-and-take-a-cactus-up-your-ass-my-God-we-are-so-fucking-fucked-storm.’ What do you think?”
“It’s got my vote.”