A brewing storm

The only constants I could set against this chaotic shift were two: my family--that is, my mother and father and cat--and the constant presence of Chilly Debby. Even though the latter was in Houston, her voice dwelt constantly in my mind: Alfie, you can't do this; Alfie, you'll be alone and unhappy all your life; Alfie, it is only with great effort that I care about you at all.

One night that fall, my mother knocked on the door of my darkened room. I had been writing a story for a creative writing class. I always liked to write in the dark.

'Yes, what is it, mother?' I said as she flicked on the light. 'I was writing. . .didn't you see the warning sign on the door?'

'"Dangerously creative work being done inside,"' she read. '"Do not disturb The Genius at any cost. Sincerely, A. J. Norton." Oh, that's cute, Alfie.'

'No, it's not cute,' said I, 'it's disquieting. To disturb a first-tier innovator is not something to be taken lightly.' With this, I rose to my feet and flipped the lights off once again.

Mother let out a sigh. 'I just wanted to tell you you left your kazoo on the steps,' said she. 'Also, the National Weather Service has issued a severe thunderstorm warning until eleven o' clock. . .and Samantha called.'

At this, an immense bolt of lightning split the sky; the rumble of its thunder rolled out over the miles; the flicker of heat lightning turned the surrounding oaks to the claws of a wild beast.