The annual Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest uses this phrase as a signifier of purple prose.Summer is waning, which means there hasn't been much rain lately, but the promise of a late summer storm is in the air tonight. Mom and I were outside watching Dad as he was balanced on the railing of the deck, scooping a few leaves out of a clogged gutter. Wielding the rake handle and the hose, Dad was trying to dislodge a clump of sticks and leaves. That's when we saw the crack of the lighting, followed pretty quickly by a clap of thunder.
My old man has always pretty been quick on the uptake ... he decided that standing in a thunderstorm with an antenna was not exactly the fate he wanted to tempt, not tonight. We all decided to pack it in, and we'll just worry about the clogged gutter tomorrow.
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