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This little piece of unfinished nothing is actually a deleted...psuedo-vignette...thingy, perhaps?...of some sort. It was originally going to be the first chapter of a story I'm writing, until I grew fed up with it and got rid of it about halfway through. However, I liked it enough to keep it in a little file of its own, and then later upload it to here, despite its shortness and unfinished...-ness. It came to me during a beautiful June heat-lightning storm and as you may or may not have noticed, nature is greatly inspiring to me. So...uh, yeah. Enjoy this very odd little tidbit! :D
Man vs. the Cumulonimbus
Abdul heard it, and then stopping to turn his head and gaze backwards from underneath his umbrella, he looked up at the sky, frowning: it was thunder making that horrid popping noise, and he knew it was growling at him. He snorted. In a way, it was his equivalent to a rare bout of laughter. He wasn’t one to let others tell him what to do, even if this other was a festering cumulonimbus cloud about to rage upon him high-frequency electrostatic discharge! Shrinking back underneath his protection and shrugging, he continued his march onwards through the light summer rain. Nothing would stop him from getting his mail. Absolutely nothing. The cumulonimbus, knowing this, became very, very angry.
“Rrr,” it purred at the determined Arab in its strange, rolling tongues. And then suddenly, the purr became a deep growl, rising furiously in the back of its throat until it was a horrible roar raging above Abdul’s ears. Abdul, unstopping this time, looked up at the gray sky again. The dark cumulus, a splatter of black-red against the rest of the heavens, threatened him once more with another guttural snarl. Leave, it was saying in its undecipherable, unpronounceable language. Leave, Arab. Leave and fear me. See how the sun flees before my presence! See how the beauty shrivels away at my mere presence! This lovely, late summer afternoon is smote. Vail is mine for the taking. And with my anger, I shall ravage your little city! The thunder shall be my battle cry of vengeance! My terrible lightning shall cast away those unworthy of my grace. My rain shall drown out the cries of the helpless and the hopeless! All will cower before me as I shall take these great lands and—
Abdul turned to the sky again, this time, pulling back his black umbrella so he could stare the cumulonimbus in its puffy, black face. He frowned. It was raining harder now, the stratus clouds so scared of the wrath of the great cumulus that they were now basically pissing themselves, but Abdul didn’t care as the cloud-piss hit his face. He wanted a word-to-word talk with the great thunderhead.
“Hey,” he called to it in his extremely thick Middle Eastern accent. “Hey, can you shut the hell up?”
The great cumulonimbus paused for a quick second, and if it could have, it would have winced. Then anger coursed through it, the electrons flowing through its anvil-shaped body like a raging ocean. One of these electrons jumped, and Abdul watched with general curiosity as the huge cloud shat out a lightning bolt. The bolt crackled, but was immediately drowned out by the rage of the cumulonimbus, which suddenly burst forth with a tremendous blast of sound.
What? shrieked the great cloud, shrieking incessantly now, the town of Vail now filled with its horrible, ugly language. Even the cities further away could hear the loudness, some of its civilians feeling bad for the place that got cursed with that psycho-anvil head. What did you say to me, puny Arab?
“I asked if you could kindly shut the hell up,” Abdul replied.
The cumulus was speechless. In its great agitation it shat out bolt after bolt after bolt, some of them darting across the sky playfully in the split second they were alive; the others striking the lesser stratus clouds—weaker things they were. The wind picked up, its voice now a whistling howl speaking instead for the anvil head, causing the green pines to bend underneath its wrath. The mountains, however, stood tall and defiant, and so did Abdul in the midst of the bitter storm, with his umbrella now over him and his coat wrapped around him tightly. As aforementioned, nothing would get him to turn around and go back. Perhaps he would walk a little bit faster, but that was it. The cumulonimbus gave another threatening growl, promising even a greater fury. Abdul turned away, not interested in anything it had to say.
“Fucking cloud,” he said.
The cumulus snarled again and swelled, expelling another stool of lightning.
“Piss off,” Abdul snapped.
The cumulus rumbled.
He didn’t care. He was in a worst mood than that stupid thing could ever be in. In pure defiance, he reconsidered his decision to perhaps walk a little bit faster and instead trashed it, keeping at his very slow, leisurely pace. The anvil head said nothing, but the wind continued being its mouthpiece, threatening with its great wailing words to rip the umbrella and coat from the Arab’s body. Abdul, in response, just held it tighter, and stuck a searching hand into the darkness of his trousers pocket, rummaging for something. The cumulonimbus, ever vengeful, watched closely, and then upon seeing Abdul pull out his keys, sent its wind to move faster and rip the glinting metals from his hands. Abdul felt the wind pick up, and clutched them harder.
Upon reaching the little roofed structure under which the mailboxes were located he sighed, happy to be dry from the now-torrential rain for at least a few more minutes. The cumulonimbus roared overhead above him, promising justice once the Arab stepped a toe out from underneath there. Abdul thought nothing of that little pisser. Besides, after collecting his post, he was going to go inside and perhaps sleep, dreaming while outside the cumulonimbus shrieked itself into a beautiful day.
“Rrr…” growled the great cloud, subdued a bit, but not out. Don’t you even think of it, Arab. The only one who will be dreaming here is me, as I recall the fond memories of my great lightning turning you into naught but a heap of sizzling ash!
Abdul found the right key, and taking it, placed it into the designated lock of his own little mail cubicle. He, living in an apartment complex, had to share one large container with everyone else, which was partitioned into little sections. He didn’t mind, except for the fact that he thought that they were located a bit too far away, though. Sticking a hand inside, he grabbed his mail. It wasn’t much—just a few envelopes—, but that was the way he liked it. If he had wanted junk, he would’ve signed up for some of those stupid celebrity magazines. Like anyone cared about those stupid bottle-blond bimbos—
“RRR!” the cumulonimbus roared. And then, licking the sky with its terrible forked tongue of lightning, it hissed, Stop stalling and fight me, Arab!
Abdul sighed, closing the metal door. Then he tilted his round face upwards, towards the sky which was already half-darkened by the cloud’s angry wrath. “You know what?” he said, dropping his keys back into his pocket and now thrusting an angry finger towards the anvil head. “You are really getting annoying.”
The cloud popped in response.
He grabbed his umbrella, and instead of thrusting it back over his head and nestling once more under its great black shield of protection, he took the metal ring of the huge cap and pulled it downwards. The cloud watched, silent except for the few curious growls that rumbled deep within its puffy throat. It swelled and grew in utter anger and frustration, wondering what on earth that puny Arab was doing.
