Words of the Constant

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Kind

Survivor

Hail

Wilson P. Higgsbury

Chilling.

Let's see if I can find a purpose for this precipitation.

From the freezer in the sky.

One should really clean up after oneself!

Like icecubes.

The sky is throwing ice!

Slightly chilly.

Brrr!

Frozen like my heart.

Ugh! Hail! It's grounded me more times than I can count.

Ms. Wickerbottom

Some storms have produced hail the size of cantaloupes.

SPIT ICE! SPOUT, RAIN!

Ugh, just melt already.

Is cold.

You think this is cold? How cute.

Me timbers is shiverin'!

Cold. Wet

NATURE IS LAUNCHING AN AIRSTRIKE