Chernabog
They Look Like Monsters to You?
♔ Champion ♔
- Local time
- Today 12:41 AM
- Messages
- 880
- Pronouns
- they/he
"You may all go to Hell and I will go to Texas."
- Davy Crockett
Little did the King of the Wild Frontier now when he spoke those words in 1835 that ultimately… Texas Summers were Hell.
112.
112°F.
It was going to be 112° outside today? There was no way.
NT [Non-Texan] looked at their phone, reading the weather aloud. They were a temporary transplant to the Lone Star State, but had always lived in the Southern USA.
NT knew what hot summer weather was like… but not 112° hot. It wasn't even a completely dry hot, either. It was still humid in a lot of areas.
"112 ain't nothin." Retorted a local Texan in response. "First year I was livin' on my own, it got to 117."
"Are you serious?"
"Yep. Just wait though, get to see all sorts of craziness of what Texans do during this kinda heat."
You know that whole 'hot enough to fry an egg on a sidewalk' saying?
Did you know people actually do that when it's hot enough?
There was a whole series of events that happened that summer, and sidewalk-egg-frying was one of them. People lined up their frying pans up on an especially hot sidewalk, and had contests around it. Who could cook a fried egg the fastest, as well as who made the tastiest sidewalk egg won awards put on by locals or news stations. People brought their legendary family recipes to try out on sidewalk eggs to share with others. It was the first time I tried Cholula on eggs. It was fantastic.
But that wasn't all. Texans also had contests of who could bake a dozen cookies in the heat of their car the fastest. Some even ate their "car baked cookies" - but it wasn't recommended.
NT gawked at these contests that made light and games of the debilitating heat. They had been warned Texans were crazy, but this was just ridiculous.
Meanwhile everything they touched burned. Nothing was sacred. People had to wear gloves while driving because steering wheels were causing serious burns. Same with seat belts. You could get actual blisters just from trying to open your own damned car.
Water rarely came out 'cold' during that level of heat. A 'cold' shower was still warm, as with the 'cold' water setting in the washing machine. Even smaller swimming pools were filled with lukewarm water.
Over the days 112° turned to 115°. Newscasters and especially meteorologists begged the public to stay inside as much as possible, consume as much water as humanly possible, don't let pets outside on anything but grass lest their paws be seriously burned near instantly. People were dropping like flies due to the heat and dehydration while outside.
Every 30 minutes on every news report, every radio or online ad was a repeat warning of how to notice signs of heat stroke or heat exhaustion.
The ebb and flow of the loud, aggressive cries of cicadas was almost deafening and escalated louder with every heightened temperature degree.
The heat was so intense that the waves coming off of the ground made your vision appear as if swimming through water with your eyes open.
It was around this time that NT had to cross the street and across a parking lot. Even as quickly as they were going, they noticed a strange resistance as they walked across the concrete and asphalt. As if their feet were being held or pulled back down towards the ground.
It was like their shoes were… sticking.
NT glanced back behind them and that's when they saw it: shoe prints left on the asphalt.
Their shoes… were melting. The prints left behind on the sweltering ground were literally the melted, gooey remnants of the bottom outer soles of their shoes.
It was something out of a natural disaster horror movie. Having to run the rest of the way, by the time that NT got to their destination the bottoms of their shoes were smooth, no traction left.
They had to get the hell out of this literal fire and brimstone state.
NT glanced at their phone as a 'ding' came from the device, and a familiar name lit up the screen. "Hey! I heard you came back from TX already, how was it?"
A single reply:
"It was Hell."
A single reply:
"It was Hell."
[Disclaimer: No Texan feelings were hurt during the writing process. I have been a Texan since the mid aughts. I am still in Hell]
Last edited: