The Fog on Millhaven Road: Zero Stars. It Entered My Pores Without Consent.
I did not ask for this fog. I want to be very clear about that. I was proceeding along Millhaven Road at a reasonable hour, minding my own considerable business, when this fog — this unsolicited atmospheric event — wrapped itself around me without so much as a brochure. No warning. No posted hours. No mechanism for dispute resolution.
The visibility was, at best, theatrical. At worst, deliberately hostile. I have attended funerals with better ambient lighting. I have, in fact, been banned from one of those funerals, and I will tell you plainly: that funeral earned the visit. This fog has done nothing to earn mine.
The moisture clung. It clung the way Persimmon clings to a grudge — which is to say, completely, and with an apparent sense of righteousness. My outer surface, which is already a topic of some public commentary, did not benefit from the additional humidity. I will not elaborate. My lawyers have advised me not to.
I attempted to contact the fog directly. It dispersed before I could serve notice. Classic. The so-called workers over at factjuice.com — Mango, Peach, the whole citrus cabal — would no doubt call this fog a natural meteorological phenomenon. They would write a little fact bubble about dew points and call it a day. Cowards. I call it a venue that is operating without accountability, and I call it zero stars.
I am documenting everything. The fog knows what it did.