MELVIN DURAI'S AMUZING LIFE
BASEMENTS ARE VITAL FOR YOUR SAFETY

     The other day, after hearing that my county was under a tornado watch, I began to question my choice of apartments.

     I knew that people might soon be advised to head to their basements, get on their knees and pray that the tornado stays away from their big-screen televisions.

     I was willing to do all this, except that my second-floor apartment is not equipped with a basement. My landlord forgot to give me one. If only he was that forgetful about the rent.

     Had I known how important basements are, I would have insisted on one. I thought basements had only two main purposes: storing old furniture and collecting rainwater.

     So what was I to do? What if a tornado showed up?

     It certainly seemed like a good time to make friends with the neighbors.

     "Hi! I'm Melvin. I live next door and I wondered if I could hide in your basement. No, I'm not hiding from immigration and I won't try to make you join Amway. I promise not to touch any of your stuff or any of your daughters. If you're growing marijuana in your basement, I promise not to report you or ask for some. Please help me. I'll do anything: mow your lawn, wash your car, rub your toes."

     But I decided that going to the neighbors' house was too much trouble, especially since they have a dog. The tornado was just a possibility, while the dog was a reality.

     Not that I wasn't concerned about the tornado. I remembered the movie "Twister" and those flying cows. If a tornado could carry a cow up in the air, imagine what it would do with me. What if it carried me all the way to Mexico? And what if the border patrol, seeing my brown skin, didn't let me return? I'd be stuck in Mexico with no American Express and, even worse, no visa.

     Tornadoes have been such a major problem in America this year that you have to wonder if Saddam Hussein is somehow responsible. You never hear of tornadoes in Iraq. Perhaps they're called something else there, something catchy like "Desert Storm" or "Great Winds of Allah." At least in Iraq, if a storm carries off your wife, you can be thankful you have several other wives.

     Tornadoes are deadly partly because people don't heed the warnings. Some think that a "tornado watch" means it's a good time to go outside and watch the tornado.

     Others think it's never going to affect them, only their neighbors. To get these people worried, the forecasters need to be more precise: "The National Weather Service has issued a tornado warning for the home of Lester and Edith Smith. Mr. Smith, you are urged to drop the remote control and rush to the basement. Don't forget to take Mrs. Smith with you. And no, Mr. Smith, there's no time to search for the Viagra."

     Thankfully, a tornado didn't visit me. And my friends gave me some good advice. They said the safest place for me to hide, other than a basement, is my bathtub. It's made to withstand any calamity, even a nuclear attack from India.

     But I still have many questions: Should I fill the tub with water? Should I glue myself to the tub? Where should I put my visa? And what if my landlord bought a cheap tub?