I am being held captive against my will. The Pre-recorded Closing Broadcast was issued at 5:17am... it has been nearly 5 hours since the sounding of the alarm and the tension in the air is mounting. I suspect a full out mutiny before lunch. My first-mate has escaped without incident and I pray that he reaches civilization and is able to report back to me. He promises to return with nourishment that will please our captors. The natives are restless and they have a crazed look in their eyes. The storm shows no signs of letting up and all you can see is white, white, white. I am beginning to doubt that help will arrive in time. My captors are demanding and my attempts at fake sleeping has no effect on them... they are relentless. They speak a strange language. I pretend to understand and that seems to please them. The little one is ravenous, the middle one has turned on several musical torture devices and appears to be quite pleased with himself, the biggest one has retreated to his lair and no doubt is planning a hostel take over. That is all for now.
Please pray for my sanity.
Over and out!
Patrick has already shoveled, actually he Woveled, and this is what it looked like a short time later and it is still coming down.
Escape is futile.