Rainstorm Chasers Day!
Four guys in a truck are chasing after a drizzle they tracked headed south-southwest.
"Catch that motherfucker and hold it to the ground by the neck underneath the truck tires!" screams Cole. Cole's always the first one out of the truck, but he makes everyone else nervous with his bravado. The equipment belongs to the university, and Cole doesn't always think it's necessary to keep the equipment secure.
"Without that equipment, Cole," Mason will say, "We might as well sit by our bedroom windows and watch puddles form in the driveway."
Cole will just spit to the ground at that. A mixture of chewing tobacco and blood (Cole's dying from the inside fast). "Ain't no regulations when you're staring down the barrel of a sunshower," he'll say.
According to their calculations, the drizzle should be just a half mile ahead. They slow the car. Just to the right, about ten yards away, they see a cow just standing there.
"Hold," Mason says. They drift ahead. Howard behind the wheel keeps his foot ready to brake.
A drip appears on the windshield.
"There," whispers Mason. The car comes to a stop. Everyone holds their breath. They scan the glass of the windshield until, smack dab in the middle of the driver's view, another drop appears.
"Everybody out!" shouts Cole.
The Rainstorm Chasers pile out of the truck and race to the back, snatching up their assault rifles and grenade launchers and just as quickly taking formation shoulder to shoulder in front of their truck. They lift their weapons in front of them and aim at the sky. Cole mutters, "This is for Tommy." And then the Rainstorm Chasers open fire, unleashing a gray fog of artillery directly into the middle of the drizzle.
Happy Rainstorm Chasers Day!
