Red sky at night, sailor’s delight; red sky in morning, sailor’s warning; red sky at 2:38 p.m., quick, get out the camera, I want to send a picture to Beverly, she’s going to be so jealous we’re—c’mon, hurry up, it’s going away… great. We just missed a 2:38 p.m. red sky. As if that comes along every fucking day. You love ruining things, don’t you?
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