Friday, December 9, 2016

Love to Walk in the Rain

 That's me, another Gene Kelly.  Only I can't sing or dance.
  I do own an umbrella
I love to walk in the rain.  
Soft droplets of water gently caressing my brow and body relax and entrance me. Alone in the mist I feel truly alive and at one with nature.
Sometimes I stroll on the spacious grounds at Haverford College, a bastion of higher learning which is nestled among the enclaves, boroughs, and villages known as the Philadelphia Main Line. My abode, but minutes away, is humble but close enough to Haverford College to enable me to pick up much needed status points. 

I tell out-of-towners and naive locals that I live over there, where dudes have a lot more money.

But nevertheless I am fortunate indeed to possess at hand such a lovely and enchanting arborous environment in which to walk in the soft and gentle rain. 

Gee, the rain's kind of picking up now and larger droplets of water are pelting upon my brow and body.  It’s a bit colder too, shucks, guess I should have taken a sweater or light jacket.

But no matter.  Say, a lovely cottage ahead!  Must be the home of a Haverford professor, probably one in liberal arts whose students will graduate to live in their parents’ basements.  It looks so warm and inviting inside; mmmm, is that a blueberry pie they’re baking?

Ah, but I’m forgoing any such epicurian comforts today as I walk in the rain rejoicing in the solitude of its now rapidly quickening pace and intensity.

Look at the young sapling!  Bursting from the earth and burgeoning skywards.  Observe the gentle movement of the chipmunk, the bunny, and the many diseased rats all about me.  Regard those gnarled tree roots right in my path.

Shit, I fell right over them!   Right into the goddamn mud!

Fucking tree roots, what are they doing out here in nature!?

It’s pouring now.   I’m freezing!  And gooey mud is seeping into my underwear!

I think it might be time to hightail it home, I hear the howling wind making a sound somewhat like the word “Katrina!”  I think this is the way out of the woods right past this thorn bush, and ….

OWWWWW!  My left arm looks like the moo goo gai pan at Sam Lo’s! 

And I forgot my first aid kit!  Actually I could only afford a third aid kit, which wouldn’t have done much good anyway. I’m bleeding and soaked and this is turning into a hurricane on steroids!

Look!  Two nearby gentleman are advancing through the downpour. Perhaps they are friendly college students coming to my aid. 

No, through the tempestuous monsoon I see they are both heavily tattooed and one young man has the words “I eat Jews’ emblazoned on his neck and he’s the less scary of the two.

HELP!  Get me outta this goddamned rain drenched hell!  

Ah, here’s the opening! Concrete and buildings and fast food!  I’m saved.

Well, finally I’ve made it home.  I might dry out by next Thursday and I'd love some blueberry pie, but - damnit!- I don't got bupkis in the fridge!

But today soft droplets of water gently caressed my brow and body to relax and entrance me as alone in the mist I felt truly alive and at one with nature.

I love to walk in the rain.  



Russell said...

Walking in the rain is highly overrated, and blueberry pie will stain your dentures, Perry.

I always suspected you danced more like Fred Astaire's lesser known half-brother, Clem Two-Left-Feet Astaire. I thought the only person who ate Jews was Linda Lovelace, and that was just for a snack.

At this time of year, I expected you to be frolicking in the snow.

Perry Block said...

Actually Linda Lovelace did eat Jews in the person of Harry Reams. Think he's dead now; I wonder why. Not planning on much frolicking for a while except for a quick frolic or two when Trump is impeached, probably when he's caught in a White House closet with Putin.

Russell said...

I saw this morning where Mitch McConnell and several other Republicans were rooting for the CIA to find proof of a Russian link to election fraud.

I told one of my Republican friends 2 weeks ago that Trump would be impeached by his own party within a year. Looks like I overstated the time frame.

Briefings? Who needs fucking briefings?