How hard is to be funny??
This started as my attempt to be funny.... But morphed as all things i write have the tendency to into this....
Funny though.... The idea really intrigues me....
Maybe I would write something more....
If it is any good...
Lemme know what you think....
It stirred the city into motion. The people who called it home were used to weather by now. It was after all that time of the year, when rain was expected to fall. They responded as one being, lifting the umbrellas that necessity dictated they carry. It was as if the first drops announced an unspoken command and spurred them to react as one.
Maybe it was so because, they were one. Different facets of the same creature. The City does that to you. No, not just any city, for no matter where you go, you always retain that part of you that makes you an individual. But, not this City. No, this was different.
Many places in time have been accused of attracting people to its glow. To the perceived life you could live there, which you always assumed was better than the life you were leading wherever you were.Even if you were a King living in his palace, the life of a rags and poverty seemed bearable, desirable even as long as you were in that City.
No, not any city, just that City. It was such a city. It had no time to spend on subtlety and slyness. It didn't need to. It was direct, as a stab with a knife is to it's intended victim. No hidden meanings or ploys, just plain death. It just sucked you in until you became part of it. Part of the mass consciousness that made you that City.
Some cultures in the past were said to have attached some divine significance to the rain. The most common of which was that the rain was God's [or whatever other anthropomorphic personality that ruled their lives] tears. Tears He shed on witnessing the sins of man. Tears, that could be use to wash away the said sins. Of course some civilizations attributed rain to another of God's Heavenly bodily fluids, but people tend to ignore them the same way you ignore a door to door salesman. If it were true, that just wouldn't be a very polite God was it.
Washing away the sins. Just like that. The next day you were given a clean slate on which to wreak havoc until the next rains. How convenient. But even if it were true, I'm sure it found it a hard task to do it's job in the city. With so much to wash away here, its a wonder the drains never got clogged. God, whatever he was, must have been a master plumber.
The city didn't react or change it's pace for so much as a heartbeat to deal with it. It was always ready, always prepared. It had a solution to everything. Problems were dealt with the same as it dealt with everything else. It made it part of itself. It drew it in until the problem was no longer a problem, but the city itself. And the city could never be the problem could it?
It was prepared for everything. It had no reason to suspect anything. Day in and day out things ran as they always had, or at least as the city said it always had. Now and again, there was change. But change was a necessity. Change was part of the city. Without change the people grew complacent and there was dissent. That couldn't be tolerated. Change was the city.
The city was everything. It had no fear. Man needed it more than it needed man. Man always needed a place to live, something to do. Man needed a life. The city gave it that life. The city would have no fear. After all it was life. After all it was man. The city was everything.
Except today.....Something was different.
Today, there was a hole in the unwavering pattern. A missing link.
A boy stood separate from the rest. A boy of about 8. He always stood in that corner. He called it home. He was one of the homeless. Every city had them, they were a necessity. But this City had a different idea than that. It craved order. The first thing it did was undefine the very term "homeless". It gave them homes.
Not proper as per such, but a place which each member called his own. It gave them all the necessities. The City looked after it's homeless. There were no beggars. No, they were left for the poorer uncultured cities.Unfortunately, the City overlooked someone. This boy.
He was ordinary to look at. But that was part of being of the homeless. They have inane talent for appearing completely invisible until they want to be seen. Most of the time seen stealing your belongings either by force or by the most polite threats to curse you for eternity. They are so ordinary, that eyes don't even bother seeing them. He was completely ordinary.
But his origins were not. Nor was what he would become.
He stood there alone looking up at the rain. In a sea of yellow umbrellas there was a lone empty spot. He alone stood and let the rain wash over him. Wash away his sins maybe. Or maybe just make him wet. Whatever it did, the only thing he was sure to achieve was a bad cold.
He didn't mind. He took it as a sign of love. Of affection. Strange. Love.... from the rain. That's all the boy wanted. Love from the trees. No, not those perverted copies that lined the City. No. Nature. He wanted love from nature. He hated order. He hated rules. He didn't believe in them. For one so young, his beliefs were pretty solidly laid down. Ironically, but also inevitably, they were everything the City's beliefs were not.
But one belief was paramount among all the things he believed in. It was what set him apart, that made him really different. What made him really dangerous. Without it he may have just evolved into another of the anarchists who are finally reabsorbed into the City becoming part of it. No, it was simple belief as he was a simple little boy. Simple as a nice homemade bomb is. It may be explosive and lethal but above all else, it is simple.
He believed the rain was his father.
The city had met his match.
The city wasn't ready for a man who had no such thing called a life. Who desired nothing but happiness and ponies. Not just any ponies. Pink ones with a horn if possible. Who thought weed was the best thing that happened to humanity and not a pest to the plants.
The city would finally face a Hippie.
There it is...
An intro if u'd like....
Or prologue or wateva u wanna call....
Let me know wat u think...
And lets see if this is worth going on about.....