My Trek Down the Ganges

It was a dark and stormy night… uh, morning. The thunder clapped like bombs overhead, but I was determined to reach my destination: the office. While making my way through the muck to my vessel was difficult, I had to make the jouney quickly as hard pellets of ice fell from the sky, pounding the top of my head like ball bearings.

My vessel was nothing like I expected to take on such a dangerous and peril-frought jounrney. It wasn't a heavy cruiser, but instead looked something like and Oldsmobile Minivan. And upon ignition, strange, heavy, foreign sounds emintated from all sides of me, a group of men chanting about Radio GaGa. I suspected a tribal ritual may be taking place, but set out on my adventure nonetheless.

As I reached the main leg of my trip, the water surronding me was dark and frought with hazards, such as a tiny craft with three wheels and some sort of multi-colored tether that had floated into an intersection where river met river. Other vessels fought through the torrent, as well, ice still falling from the skies as we battled the rapids.

With much skillful navigation, I made my way to where the hospital lay on one side of the water, a school on the other. Here the water was deepest and infested with pedestrians. I dare not stop my vessel, for fear of flooding as the waters swirled around me, buffeting me from side to side. The water began to come above my doors, threatening to find its way past by insulation and gaskets. Eventually, though, I made my way through the torrent and back into shallower water.

As I approached my desintation, I saw that my docking area was clear. Thankfully, a break in the storm. And, with that, my journey was complete.

So do you think if I send this nonsensical drivel to the city, that they would finally do something about the storm drains in this town? I thought not.


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