angelscott
01-22-2003, 11:08 PM
Have a heaping helping of a fanfiction.net masterpiece..this couldn't wait.
Milwaukee, Wisconsin, 1957.
Torrential hail was plaguing the entire city. An evening, unfortunately, which no one made a move out of their houses. Unfortunately, Richie Cunningham, Warren Weber, Arthur Fonzarelli, Ralph Malph, Joanie Cunningham and Chachi Arcola were no exceptions. Arnold's, the teens' hangout wouldn't be available tonight...
According to the news report, hail was as huge as the average creek skimming stone, "the worst hailstorm Milwaukee had ever seen since April 1938." Hail dented any cars, shattered any trees, bruised any left out dairy cows or other livestock, and if Arthur Fonzarelli, or who his friends called "Fonzie" didn't lock his Harley-Davidson up tighter than a drum, it would almost literally be mere mincemeat by sunrise.
Richie sat in his room upstairs in his innocent, naturally edelweiss Milwaukee home, and listened to it...it sounded as if the whole rest of planet earth was applauding him and Milwaukee, it seemed so strange. Phone lines were, unfortunately, down for the moment, as the wooden phone lines of old, too, were mercilessly prayed upon.
Richie gazed outside his window. His rightfully pure-hearted eyes were wide as his jaw hung open, stunned to see God hurling small golf balls at earth.
A moment to laugh at the thought...he imagined this Charleton Heston-like fellow in scarlet and gold and jewels galore, going into some god-awful conniption fit, tossing bucket after bucket of golf balls right for his hometown.
A mighty bolt flashed and made the city, for a split second, look like afternoon, its form was almost as lithesome and majestic as Grace Kelly in a white satin dress.
God had taken an acre of oxygen and ripped it in two.
Whoa, Richie thought, spring housecleaning in the world above!
But little did he or any Milwaukeean realize...that the housecleaning...had only begun to begin.
Milwaukee, Wisconsin, 1957.
Torrential hail was plaguing the entire city. An evening, unfortunately, which no one made a move out of their houses. Unfortunately, Richie Cunningham, Warren Weber, Arthur Fonzarelli, Ralph Malph, Joanie Cunningham and Chachi Arcola were no exceptions. Arnold's, the teens' hangout wouldn't be available tonight...
According to the news report, hail was as huge as the average creek skimming stone, "the worst hailstorm Milwaukee had ever seen since April 1938." Hail dented any cars, shattered any trees, bruised any left out dairy cows or other livestock, and if Arthur Fonzarelli, or who his friends called "Fonzie" didn't lock his Harley-Davidson up tighter than a drum, it would almost literally be mere mincemeat by sunrise.
Richie sat in his room upstairs in his innocent, naturally edelweiss Milwaukee home, and listened to it...it sounded as if the whole rest of planet earth was applauding him and Milwaukee, it seemed so strange. Phone lines were, unfortunately, down for the moment, as the wooden phone lines of old, too, were mercilessly prayed upon.
Richie gazed outside his window. His rightfully pure-hearted eyes were wide as his jaw hung open, stunned to see God hurling small golf balls at earth.
A moment to laugh at the thought...he imagined this Charleton Heston-like fellow in scarlet and gold and jewels galore, going into some god-awful conniption fit, tossing bucket after bucket of golf balls right for his hometown.
A mighty bolt flashed and made the city, for a split second, look like afternoon, its form was almost as lithesome and majestic as Grace Kelly in a white satin dress.
God had taken an acre of oxygen and ripped it in two.
Whoa, Richie thought, spring housecleaning in the world above!
But little did he or any Milwaukeean realize...that the housecleaning...had only begun to begin.