Congratulations Rainstorm!

You’re a rainstorm, and today you’re going to ruin everything.

“Agh, my wedding!” the bride will cry, shaking her fist at the sky while her goth little sister shrugs and eyes the groom, wondering how he feels about marrying her sister now that she’s shown him who she really is under all the makeup.


“Hm,” the retired investment banker will declare from inside his Lexus as the first droplets of what will soon be your torrential downpour scar his windshield and make him rethink the nine holes he planned to get. He’ll weigh the possibility of a DUI after a few drinks at the Nineteenth Hole against the chore of seeing his wife sober so soon after storming out, both of them grisly prospects.

“Agh,” the homeless man will mumble as he turns over and tries to put a piece of cardboard between the part of him that lays exposed from under the loading dock where he’s taken shelter and you. He knows it won’t hold up long, but if he can even get a few hours of rest in before walking to a park to find a better place to spend the night it won’t be so bad.

Every one of these people will be upset today, and it’s going to be entirely your fault. The only people who won’t be pissed at you are all the couples, roommates and co-workers who decide to take your cue and spend the day inside fucking one another. Those people will be pretty psyched to see you show up. But everyone else is just going to be rat pissed at you for fucking up all their plans, however loosely formed they may have been.

Congratulations Rainstorm!