Rain and Other Elements

Foreword
I can not draw. I can handle a mouse and colour parts of my screen even less. This is my idea of trying to devise ways of amusing myself.

Yesterday, something akin to a thunderstorm took place. Clothes escaped from lines, thunder shook the windows and the cat sought refuge under the car. I, being at the nearest mall, trying to finish Batman novels at the store itself so that I did not feel compelled to buy them, was blissfully unaware of all this. Until, that is, the people whom I was originally supposed to spend the evening with decided it was time to leave. Which is when the entire place suffered a blackout and the fire alarm got activated. Which is when the first part of the drawing takes place. There I am, in the middle, wondering if there was any way on earth I could convince the others of the joy of an icecream while walking back home in a thunderstorm. There are the others, doing things I was not really paying attention to, being lost in an icecream reverie.

I did get the icecream, acquiring which I escaped my disapproving guards and had it while being drenched in the rains, which poured down with an unequalled alacrity. Ice cream finished, I crept back to my friends with a docility they did not believe in and we went back to our respective homes, the rains now being officially over for the day.

The rains, being what they are, came back today, in the form of drizzles at intervals. The weather turned from insane to miserable, the sky turned a depressing grey from a fiery black, and I, horrified at being awake at an early hour, decided to mope and strolled along dejectedly from room to room, singing dismal songs to myself. However, when you sing Ella Fitzgerald songs, you require, nay, crave an audience. Hunt-the-cat took place until it was found trying to sleep on the backyard porch.

"Now, Opuntia," I announced as I took my place beside it, " I know we do not get on well, but your cat friends have betrayed you and my friends may well be cats. However, this animosity between us has to stop, we are all the other has. I even have a song about it. It was sung by Ella, pure of tone and pure of heart, not unlike you and I. In fact, Opi, this is between you and me, I want to be her. Now, I want you to be a true judge. You have heard her work before. You usually saunter around at my window whenever I play her songs. So, now, here we go."

Thus, I started giving the cat a rendition of Let's call the whole thing off, halfway through which, it gave an agonized yowl and scampered away.

Which is why I should definitely be allowed to get a dog.