[Original: Drabble] "It's Raining, It's Pouring" [Zeke Jones, G]
Title: It’s Raining, It’s Pouring
Prompt: writerverse challenge #06 sticky situations (use a randomly-generated prompt)
Word Count: 262
Rating: G
Original/Fandom: original ( Zeke Jones ‘verse)
Summary: “Mother Nature hates me.”
Note(s): originally posted to the writerverse wv_library
It's Raining, It's Pouring
PROMPT: Mother earth does not care about your character's petty problems. She will throw down a hurricane, flood, famine, or pestilence at a whim. What can mother nature do to make the current situation more annoying?
“Mother Nature hates me,” I said, as I got into our patrol car.
I must have looked really pathetic, because Howell didn’t even scowl at me dripping rain water everywhere.
“There’s no such person as Mother Nature,” he said.
“There has to be,” I argued, laying my gloves over the heating vent and shrugging out of my sopping jacket. “Or why else would we keep getting weird weather like this? We’re in Pennsylvania, sir, we’re not supposed to have extreme weather.”
“A few severe thunderstorms is hardly extreme, Jones.”
“All of them exactly centered on my apartment building, though? I’m beginning to think I pissed off one of my neighbors and he’s using some kind of voodoo against me.”
“One,” said Howell, in his extra-patient tone of voice, “voodoo isn’t real. Two, I don’t think that’s how it would work, even if it was. And three, why would someone curse his own apartment building with rain?”
I frowned thoughtfully at him. “That’s a very good point, sir. It must have been one of the people I arrested! I should check our records to see if-”
“There’s no voodoo, Jones,” my partner interrupted, before I could reach for our police-issue computer. “Sometimes, things just happen. Like thunderstorms.”
As if on cue, it began to rain harder, bigger and bigger drops that beat against the car with dull plunks that quickly became sharper toned plinks.
I looked out the side window, go see gumball-sized hail stones beginning to accumulate in the gutters.
“Sir…” I began, but this time, he did scowl.
“Quiet, Jones.”
THE END
Current Mood:
contemplative
Prompt: writerverse challenge #06 sticky situations (use a randomly-generated prompt)
Word Count: 262
Rating: G
Original/Fandom: original ( Zeke Jones ‘verse)
Summary: “Mother Nature hates me.”
Note(s): originally posted to the writerverse wv_library
It's Raining, It's Pouring
PROMPT: Mother earth does not care about your character's petty problems. She will throw down a hurricane, flood, famine, or pestilence at a whim. What can mother nature do to make the current situation more annoying?
“Mother Nature hates me,” I said, as I got into our patrol car.
I must have looked really pathetic, because Howell didn’t even scowl at me dripping rain water everywhere.
“There’s no such person as Mother Nature,” he said.
“There has to be,” I argued, laying my gloves over the heating vent and shrugging out of my sopping jacket. “Or why else would we keep getting weird weather like this? We’re in Pennsylvania, sir, we’re not supposed to have extreme weather.”
“A few severe thunderstorms is hardly extreme, Jones.”
“All of them exactly centered on my apartment building, though? I’m beginning to think I pissed off one of my neighbors and he’s using some kind of voodoo against me.”
“One,” said Howell, in his extra-patient tone of voice, “voodoo isn’t real. Two, I don’t think that’s how it would work, even if it was. And three, why would someone curse his own apartment building with rain?”
I frowned thoughtfully at him. “That’s a very good point, sir. It must have been one of the people I arrested! I should check our records to see if-”
“There’s no voodoo, Jones,” my partner interrupted, before I could reach for our police-issue computer. “Sometimes, things just happen. Like thunderstorms.”
As if on cue, it began to rain harder, bigger and bigger drops that beat against the car with dull plunks that quickly became sharper toned plinks.
I looked out the side window, go see gumball-sized hail stones beginning to accumulate in the gutters.
“Sir…” I began, but this time, he did scowl.
“Quiet, Jones.”
THE END
Current Mood:
contemplative