My sister wanted to become a rain god. Said she wouldn't be in it for the adoration, devotional abasement, grovelling, or human sacrifice, just the money. Which might explain why I've been hit by lightning so many times this week. (Late again with my payment I guess.)
Mom said I'd never amount to much. Now that I'm only a pile of wet ashes, I think I may have to agree with her.
For the second time this year I've been flooded out of my 14th floor apartment. Something is definitely up with that. Screws up my walking schedule something fierce, and I'm tired of paddling to work. Good thing I no longer have a job then.
I remember seeing the sun, but that was a while back, just before the big hissing sound, when everything got real hot and steamy.
Well, I am saving lots on sunscreen. Now I just sit at home and drink. Have a nice mold collection getting started, and it's turning out to be better than anything on TV these days.
Damn these clouds. I know that the juicy fat full moon is up there somewhere, and I really need to get in some howling, but if you can't see it, you can't do it. The neighbors have started to give me some grief as well — it's really hard to keep my face shaved and my claws clipped, especially with no handy excuses for my looks. "Werewolf, you? You seriously want us to believe that? Hah — just go get a trim already." See? All the side glances too.
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Me? Just sitting here counting my tentacles.
