It was 5:30 on a dreary Friday afternoon in Los Angeles. The Horsewomen were contemplating the weekend plans. Fire. Brimstone. Zombie beheading. The usual.
Then the walls shook. The air buzzed. Famine's giant rat named George growled low in his throat.
I was SURE it was a sign of the apocalypse. The sky was falling. It had to be. Best. Disaster. Ever.
But NO. It was just NASA being the noisiest neighbor ever.
A little bad weather in Florida and they have to land the Discovery in California and get my hopes up. No falling sky. No asteroids. Not even a decent atomic blast.
The shuttle, on the other hand, is now safe and sound on terra firma. They really should discuss this with the aliens, their invasions never cause this much of a ruckus.