Does it ever stop raining in this town?
September 25th, 2005 by Bill
“It’s raining.”
“Yes.”
“Will it stop?”
“Eventually.”
“When?”
“Dunno.”
“Shit. So why do you like this town so much? All it ever freakin’ does is rain.”
“There are places in Africa where this would be proof of God’s beneficence.”
“God’s what?”
“Beneficence.”
“What’s that?”
“Kindness. Goodness. A helpful gesture.”
“Well, this isn’t helping me. If it’s from God, I think he’s saying this place sucks.”
“No. Beneficence. God knows exactly what he’s doing. Doesn’t he?”
As he spoke, he turned to the rest of the crowd. Soberly, they all nodded in the affirmative.
The stranger, who did not care for the rain, sensed he was missing something the others all shared.
“So …” he began haltingly, wondering what it was everyone but he knew, “So what’s God know that I don’t? What’s he doing?”
The man he had been speaking to smiled at him. “He’s making a suggestion,” he said.
“And a damn good one!” he laughed, again nodding to the crowd.
They laughed with him. The stranger quickly developed a sense of discomfort that soon evolved into anxiety.
“Well, I think I’ll head back to my hotel now …”
“Oh, no, no …”
The crowd drew closer.
The stranger felt hands on his shoulder. The clasp of firm grips anchored on his limbs. The crowd of locals lifted him. The stranger remembered his youth and mosh pits.
But this was different.
They were moving him outside into the rain.
“Hey! Put me down! What’s the hell’s wrong with you people? Put me down!”
They did not put him down. Rather, they carried him aloft, almost as if he were a sacrifice, and carried him down to the dock.
They tossed him in the water.
Sputtering, he cried out, “Fuckers! Asshole fuckers!”
He swam back. But he could not get out of the water. Dozens of arms reached out to him. Unforgiving palms slapped down on his skull and forced him beneath the surface.
He struggled. He swallowed water. He lost consciousness and ceased resisting.
The crowd moved away.
As they left the dock someone said, “Look. I think it’s beginning to clear up. God, I love this town.”
Someone else laughed, and shouted, “Hey! I’ve got ‘Blonde on Blonde’ on my iPod!”
(Originally posted on Crazy Ass Planet, Sunday September 25, 2005.)
