by Norton Nowlin

Created on: October 04, 2009

A Measure of Worth

It was Halloween, and nearing the evening hour when night would replace day and hordes of trick-or-treaters would suddenly converge onto shadowy streets to celebrate their traditional costumes and rituals. While the yearly event had little meaning to him, an uncommon commotion inside of Tim Harding's head was as darkly stormy as the unanticipated late-October weather outside his Walla Walla apartment. A clash of overlapping seasons, pitting freakishly warm autumn air over the Cascade Mountains against a belting arctic blast from above Canada, was ushering an icy electrical rainstorm onto eastern Washington. The strange prevailing condition was as fateful to that region of the country as the awful dread of an impending doom was to Tim.

Sitting, fidgeting nervously in a stained gray sweat suit on the edge of a wobbly wooden chair, Tim struggled to watch the local evening weather report on an ancient black and white television. The twisted clothes hanger wire served as a makeshift antenna and wasn't doing its job of bringing in even a facsimile of a clear picture. Rising from the chair, he reached with an unsteady hand to twist it this way and that before finally seeing the dim outline of a car salesman in a commercial on the fuzzy white picture screen. The image Tim saw resembled a man caught in a fierce snow blizzard, while a screechy hissing sound, like a devilish wind, emanated from the tube.

Then Chuck Charles', chubby distorted figure suddenly appeared on the screen. His large lips were working vigorously while only exuding a severely garbled incoherent babble. Tim angrily slapped the sides of the TV with his hand, and a faint voice emerging out of the electronic storm became barely audible. Charles possessed a thick Southern accent that was accentuated by his trademark smile, which he flashed while preening for his admiring television audience. Or was it simply a smirky mask that concealed his real face on the screen? Tim couldn't decide as he grimaced, straining to hear the subdued voice.

Just get to the weather, you jerk. Tim hissed at the talking head, as a voice became audible.

How are you all doing out there in Walla Walla land on a spooky Halloween? The chubby meteorologist crooned. Snow flurries east of the Cascades are on their way to our fair city, and they'll be here to greet us right after an electrical storm gears up for a lot of thunder, lightning, and heavy rain. Yea, that's right, folks. It's going to be a

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