another day.
it was raining.
thomas “tex” jones sat watching the raindrops slide down the window.
he thought they looked like a mighty army of savage warriors sweeping across a windswept plain.
clyde lee came along.
what are you looking at, mr jones? clyde lee asked.
the raindrops.
what do they look like to you?
like a host of angels marshaling their forces for the final battle of armageddon.
really? to me, they look like willow branches, singing a happy song as they are carried down the river to the sea. or perhaps a group of happy children in a schoolyard, playing an enthusiastic game of tag.
you blithering idiot, mr jones replied evenly, if you see such things as that then you are blind, and have walked in darkness all your days, and will continue to do so until you are finally swallowed by the great dragon of moloch.
well, i am sorry you feel so negatively at this moment, mr jones. perhaps you will feel a bit more upbeat later.
get lost, mr jones growled, and clyde lee went on his way.
the rain continued to fall, and the raindrops to crawl down the window, but after a while they stopped.
a few streaks of rain lingered.
the sun would have come out, but it had already gone down.
No comments:
Post a Comment