Dear Approaching Storm,
You have a lot of nerve. You think that just because you're a massive front of high pressure clouds you're allowed to come and go as you please - uninvited? You throw your weight around, rile us up, and typically are never what you claim to be. Sure, last week you went out of your way to live up to your reputation. But on a night like tonight, when everyone else fears your potential, I know that you are half of what they predict. Flurries - droplets - at best. The higher-ups will cancel my concert because of your threats - which we both know are idle - thereby forcing us to reschedule for Monday. Forcing me to miss one of the few opportunites I have to venture to the city to hear some music
You are nothing but an inconsistent, inconsiderate bastard. May you rot in hell.