rain, rain

Walking in rain can be fun. Lovers do it in the movies all the time. White, fit, middle class Americans hopped up on endorphins and the elegance of freedom gleefully charge out into the rain on an empty street and spin, prance, and laugh--all in opposition to nature and her will. Nothing but the heat of their bodies keep them warm as their clothes become transparent and time sort of stops while the rain washes them of all care--leaving them innocent.

However, he wasn't them and walking in the rain was not fun tonight. Except for the shadows cast by the random flickering lamp posts, he was alone. He breathed quick jagged breathes that bellowed from his mouth only to be immediately crystallized. He had not known it was going to rain tonight. It came on suddenly, scattering everyone on the street. He was already completely soaked, his shirt clinging his skinny body. The worst part was that he was wearing flip flops. His feet were numb and every time he took a step, his feet would flip and then flop, shooting water up the back of his leg. He decided to concentrate on something else in order to get his mind off this ill fated journey. He chose statistics. Just then his tractionless flip flops shot out from under him and he landed on his back in a pool of rain water. Damn z scores. He just lay there for a minute, analyzing the situation. A man approached him. The stranger stopped, took a breathe, and said “Man it sucks you have flip flops.”