Y’all. I don’t mean to alarm anyone, but Alabama is melting.
Not figuratively. I just watched a squirrel pull off his fur coat and fan himself with a Waffle House menu. The heat index is 114 degrees and my flip-flops have fused to the sidewalk. I tried to peel them off and lost three layers of dignity in the process. My little Mawmaw would say, “It’s hotter than forty-nine devils!”
Let’s back up.
Last Tuesday, I opened my front door and was immediately slapped across the face by what I can only describe as Satan’s moist breath. My glasses fogged. My soul evaporated. My neighbor, Dwayne, was sitting in a lawn chair on his porch, wagging a hand-held funeral home fan muttering, “This ain’t right!” His elderly mastiff had passed out next to a kiddie pool full of ice cubes and Gatorade. No one questioned it.
This isn’t heat. This is a spiritual trial.
Things that have happened during this heatwave:
- My car’s steering wheel seared a W into my palms. I drive a Chevrolet Impala.
- My deodorant quit halfway through the day and left a note that said, “You’re on your own, mister.”
- A woman at the Piggly Wiggly fanned herself so hard she accidentally summoned a demon. It was too hot to be evil so he just handed her a bottle of sweet tea and sat on the frozen peas.
- The air is so thick you can chew it. I saw a kid bite the atmosphere like cotton candy. He’s still chewing.
We’ve all gone feral. People are grilling on their dashboards. I saw a man boil an egg on the hood of his truck, garnish it with a Slim Jim, and call it a “mobile deviled egg charcuterie.” Sir, this is a Walgreens.
Even the Baptists are canceling church picnics. That’s just how serious it really is! When Reverend Tucker says, “Let’s just Zoom it,” we are in uncharted territory. I saw him wearing shorts yesterday. Shorts. His knees looked confused. I didn’t know what to do with that.
Survival Tips for the Alabama Heatwave:
- Hydrate constantly. If your pee looks like sweet tea, you’re already too late.
- Dress light. Sundresses, tank tops, and full nudity are all acceptable after 10 AM.
- Lay in front of a fan and make sad whale noises. It won’t help, but it’ll pass the time.
- Befriend someone with a pool. If they don’t invite you over, show up anyway. They’ll understand.
Listen, we’ll get through this. We always do. Eventually, the cicadas will quiet down, the air will stop sweating on us, and James Spann will say, “Well, fall’s coming.” And then it’ll be 92 degrees with just enough breeze to make you believe in hope again.
But until then, stay cool. Literally. Figuratively? We gave up on that in June.
And remember: If it feels like you’re being hugged by a sweaty God in a polyester tracksuit—
That’s just Alabama in July.
And, I mustn’t neglect the obligatory shameless self-promotion. New Yesterdays is available through the following links: Amazon, Libro.fm (audiobook), Barnes & Noble, Books-A-Million, or from your favorite bookshop.
olbigjim 