Oh, you saw the black clouds when you woke up this morning. You felt the moisture in the air. You noted the neighbors barricading themselves into their storm cellars. But you paid none of this any mind. You bought some brand new hair gel and you’ll be damned if your beloved coif gets crushed under a hooded jacket.
But your beloved ‘do isn’t destined to survive the day anyway, as the heavens soon burst forth in a deluge rivaling that which turned Noah into an accomplished seaman. As entire city blocks float by and get washed down the sewer, you scramble around like a drowned rat, searching for some semblance of shelter. When you find nothing but an awning heavily defended by a rabid, elderly man, you realize that you have no choice. You must buy an umbrella.
You’d love to get one of those massive, Superdome-like monstrosities that golfers carry about, but unfortunately, such an item is not available to a desperate, soggy person like you. The only thing that you can procure is a flimsy, half-broken, waif of a device, sold to you for fifteen dollars by a man with a very large smile.
You begrudgingly open up your foolish new purchase. It creaks and moans and screams at you to stop prodding it into serving the purpose for which it was created. Fabric is tearing. Plastic is breaking. Large metal rods begin poking out in all directions, causing you to resemble an angry beetle in the throes of an excruciating Raid death. But at least it’s keeping you relatively dry.
For approximately thirty seconds. The minute that one gust of wind swoops in, all is lost. Your worthless piece of crap flings itself inside out, as if trying to escape the very idiot who adopted it. You’re shocked, for some reason, as if completely unaware that such a tragedy could befall the item that cost 5¢ to make somewhere in Cambodia. You attempt to reign it in, but such efforts are futile, and only serve to make you appear more and more ridiculous with every desperate swipe. Drier people are now laughing at you, the poor fool who looks like a bathtub-tortured LOLcat. Eventually the accursed object blows away, down the street, leaving you to stand there, pathetic and drenched, yelling after it “Just go! GO, you accursed HELLFIEND!”
So if you want to suck at life, purchase a cheap umbrella. Sure, yelling at an inanimate object as it happily floats away might be seen as crazy, but it’s not nearly as crazy as emptying out your wallet for a shard of tattered nylon. You’re engendering multiple forms of crazy today. Keep it up, sport.