IT’S ANOTHER DROUGHT THIS YEAR IN GEORGIA.
For years now, it’s been record low rainfalls, record high heat. And while this August’s not the hottest we’ve ever had, it’s pretty damn close.
Utterly scorching is one way to put it.
Atlanta’s in such peril they’ve begun pumping the Tennessee River clean just to quench the thirst of the people way down here. It’s making people mad enough up in Chattanooga that local extremists are demanding secession from the Republic.
Locals down here barely take notice.
More than fights over water rights is that one evil word, the single term that sets hearts ablaze: Hotlanta.
If there’s ever a way to show yourself as a townie or a carpetbagger, it’s calling our city Hotlanta. It’s dismissive, it makes you look like you can’t handle a little heat, and most of all, it sounds dumb.
Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.
But in the middle of this heat wave in the middle of this drought, I’m starting to wonder if it’s better to go against my valued principles and side with the carpetbaggers on this one. Because “Hotlanta” is looking more and more accurate every single day.
But if it’s all sun and no fun for the city, it’s the exact opposite of that for me.
I’m about to tell you a story, and you might want to sit down, maybe break out a sweet tea (with a lemon) and get one of those spray bottle mist things. Because this is going to be a bit of a long one. It’s got way too many threads, way too many characters, and way too many instances of my ass getting whooped by people stronger than me.
It’s that kind of story where you wonder just how some dope like me could spend a month of their life doing this much. Do I even get a single day to rest? The answer is no. I do not get a day to rest, because that’s life when you’re a superhero, or at least when you pretend to be a superhero.
We’ve got political elections. We’ve got cyber-powered supervillains. We’ve got mafias and junkyards and anime pornography. Most of all, we’ve got a summer that just won’t quit.
Seriously. I’m sweating just telling you about it.
So lean back in your chair, relax, sip your sweet tea, and try to beat the heat. Otherwise Hotlanta might just be beating you.