STORY - Flavour Drizzle

I was at the library today, working on my CVs, burning linux ISO discs and ever reading, ever learning. The library is in a small park much favoured by the street drinkers in summer months; they were clustered around a statue, practicing their arguing for later in the day. And then the rain streaked the window before turning to hail, and I decided to write about rain.

As ever this is written quickly, and unedited. The fingers fly across the keyboard and you see the results.

Copyright Bloody Mulberry 20.04.12

Flavour Drizzle

Humanity, I’ve been experimenting.

Precipitation, that which you call rain, or might call snow if I am cruel enough to drop the temperature a little, is a driving force in your life. The major one in fact. Without it, you all die.

And I always make sure that no matter how much rain, let’s just call it rain, to be simple, is needed (or not) at a given time, humanity doesn’t get it. This can be small scale – you go on holiday, I make it rain every day. Or large – the crops of African nations will fail if there is not more rain, I give them even less.

I watch floods drown Bangladesh in oxtail water and allow a steely evil glint to pollute the corner of my eye.

And then, after a particularly trying series of natural disasters, I was persuaded by my fellow powers that be that I’d gone a bit far with this cruelty lark, and I admit I am a bit younger than the rest of us, and I had perhaps got a little too overenthusiastic with the torment.

They re-educated me.

I apologise.

And so, to make up for all my past atrocities, humanity, I bring you FLAVOURED RAIN.

Indeed. Instead of the carbonic sulphuric corroder of your historic buildings, everytime it rains, stick your tongue out and allow if to be drenched in flavour! Citric lemon, warm date and almond; hot paprika scattered showers.

Drink in my goodness, orange clouds deliver blackberry mizzle, purple skies for a sweet grapey mizzle.

And no-one shall ever die of thirst again.

Copyright Bloody Mulberry 20.04.2012