The Storm

Henry. Can’t wait to taste it!” I said. “It ain’t Brooklyn food. It’s better,” he said. “I’m sure it is. What’s 'grits' anyway?” I asked. Henry responded, “You don’t know?' “Nope. I don’t. Never had it.” Henry laughed and said, “I’ll tell you later, but taste it first and tr y to guess what it is.” Oh, a test, I thought. I was hoping it wasn’t gopher guts or something like that, as I was just barely catching on to Bayou humor. Anything to embarrass a Yankee. It was a tongue-in-cheek game with them, I assumed. The comfortable setting with the fire, rain, thunder, and lightning put me into an easy mood. So, I settled in the living dining room combination and turned on my camera. The videos turned out excellent. The stills even better. I went through the video frame by frame and then turned my attention to the stills. Click then zoom. Click then zoom. "Wow, these are fantastic. I could be a professional photographer," I thought to myself. I’m good! I took out my small notebook and began with the heading. “The Storm.” Good enough. A nd now for my introduction. I remembered that I had saved my last 20 fast-frame pictures under a different file name and operated the buttons to bring them up. Click then zoom, click then zoom, click then…. "What is that?" I thought. I increased the zoom by another percentage. Then another. “What in the world is that?” I asked out loud. “Hey Henry. I got something here!” I said. “What, an embedded wood tick?” Henry asked as he laughed. “No! Something weird,” I said. “Your funny, wrinkled toes, right?” “No ! Seriously. I got something weird here and it's not your portrait!” I returned fire. “I’ll see it in a minute. Let me finish fixin' supper, Zach!” “Okay but you gotta see this!” I continued to stare at the picture, moving it around on my camera preview screen at full zoom.

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