More Heat Than (Available) Light
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(Weepy blues guitar, with plenty of sweaty sting. Slinky, funky highhat w/ kick and snare joins in with slutty, nasty bass at about :15. Narrator is male or female, tired, nearly pissed off. )
That kind of day, when stepping out of the safety of the AC for a couple of seconds causes your hair to become wet underneath as your shirt gains weight from the soaked-up moisture, gushing from pores you never knew could sweat; when the promise of momentary cooling from an afternoon scattered shower just misses your neighborhood by a zip code; when relief is your head submerged in a not-cool-enough pool, and coming up for breath means beads of perspiration forming on your forehead as soon as your face hits the air; when as the sun is finally and slowly diving, casting light through your neighbor's sprinklers, you run and grab the camera, convinced you are seeing God's Light, when in truth you are just temporarily delusional, hallucinating from exposure; when standing over a grill in the evening to test your just-invented but never-attempted Lime & Pepper Breast of Chicken™ might be likened to fishing in a molten lava river. In midsummer. In Hell.
(Coca-Cola, Corona, Dasani, etc.)