My, it sure is rainy outside this morning!
It’s all wet and drippy everywhere, like a rottweiler’s mouth. I hate this weather, because my hair becomes unmanageable and my inner thighs chafe. Why is everything all gray and cold and forbidden today?
Is it because of Terry’s shame?
Terry has a secret that he wants to tell you, but he shouldn’t. His secret would disrupt your tenuous friendship. Perhaps his stifled desires have caused the raingoblins to shower us with their sweaty crotchdroplets? This sounds causal to me.
I hope that this rain goes away soon. Then perhaps Terry will return and teach me about the majesty of dance while I vacation with my family at a mountain resort in the summer of 1963 and pass from adolescence to adulthood as I am held aloft, safe in Terry’s arms.
Also, I’m afraid of all the worms on the sidewalk.