To some the storm was a happy hailstorm, to me it was just a motherfuckingstorm. To some the winds blew and trees fell, meant it was time to sing with joy and dance till your paw hurt. Not to talk about the bigfoot impression it leaves to confuse fellow bigfoothunters (If you read this, I respect what you’re doing and I want in!). Anyway, to me, it was all cloudy, black and boiling, and nothing happened. Nothing. Nice to get drenched and not struck by lightning though.
I even called up to the heavens,”I know you see me! And I can see your wicked grin. Lay off. ” And then I wagged my finger. Then what? Naturally, the thunder and it’s horrible crackle, loud raucous laughter,promising me a slow, cold death. I can just hear Tom O’ Shatner whispering to me, “Even a bairn might understand, the devil had business on hand” over all this mad mad cackling and thunder. My turn. Well, I just used up all my energy running away from the evil rain. But it was out to get me, I tell you.
St. Elmo’s fire was always bad luck, always. Even the dog has the sense to go hide under the blankets and lick it clean. ick. Dog and blanket, disowned. I’d been having a bad day and there was the devil having his share of fun, and there was everyone else dancing and hee-hawing in the outpour. This was the ultimate paradox, how humans find their feet and tap dance when struck by such storms as to might electrocute you into doing the skeleton dance instead. Reminds me of Scotland, long long back, when funerals meant a bagpipe, whisky and dancing. Hey, did you happen to see the corpse?
Then I started searching for someone who’s had a worse day than I did. I found a drunken man story who fell asleep on his horse, for some reason he decided he was really exhausted, dog tired. And the back of a horse was the best place to nod off, better than the bed and the snoring wife. He found the hard way, booze and horses don’t mix. Should have gone to the wife. But I fought with my mother and this didn’t cover it. This hit the news and I am just hitting raindrops. I called off my search and began eyeing everything around me suspiciously, like the switches might trip and throw me into darkness, the winds might blow so ferociously, I wouldn’t breathe.
Call me crazy, I imagined a spirit walking towards me in the rain, then it gets crazier, I couldn’t decide who I wanted it to be so it switched, first thought of a Charon like figure, guy with a black hood and wooden stick waiting on the ferry, it fitted the ominous weather. Don’t want to die today. I let the figure wade away, the black stream of water, the sacred styx of today’s hell. I let the gloominess sink in and overpower my thoughts. It went something like this -this world is nothing but a paradox, if you were to be gifted with the power to see the future, you’d probably be cursed with never being believed. Paradoxical hell. Then I ended up imagining the snowman, couldn’t remember the name though. Olfa? Olfa shows me pictures of myself when I was younger and had just won a potato sack race, look at me, all optimistic and smiling! I was standing a little lopsided, my foot probably hurt, with a lopsided grin but I was standing. And I was grinning. I bet I felt like I’m the fastest kid in the whole wide world. I’m beginning to think I might just survive some more fights with mom for moments like those. I look out of the window again, and make a face.
This time I say – “Don’t mess with me, I won the potato sack race.” Naturally, the sky clears out and the wind slows down, a tiny bit. The leaves look looser and the grass drier, a tiny bit. But that’s enough for my tiny self.
So rain on me. I won’t feel a thing.