Ah, the most perfect weather we've been having. Raging storms, angry flashes of light followed by loud booming laughter echoing through the night as the world fills with water. Downpour subsides, but then crashes down on you again without a seconds notice. Of course, the giant bulge in your roof should have been some slight indication, but hey, a little filthy El Paso border water never hurt anyone. Except for all those people who drank it. Nothing beats sitting in the rain, watching the clouds fight, powerless to stop them, shaken to the bone as they crash against each other like waves on a long forgotten beach where the sun is never seen except to color the sky in the late evening. The rest is darkness, wet sand, and birds. Always birds. No matter what there are birds. They may not always be as happy as they usually are, but their incessant hooting has haunted me for days. Never a moments sleep, during the day, at night, while I drive my car, always the birds. Why can't they be washed away like so many discarded cigarette butts? No rain is ever powerful enough to ruin the kingdom of the birds. A shotgun I do not have, nor would know what to do with, yet I can always hope some horror befalls them. A puddle of water brushes against my feet and I struggle to sit higher in the car to avoid the terrible murky depth full of sea creatures that lies at my feet. A chill runs through me as I remove the cover that is supposed to keep my dry, only to find out that it kept the water in just the right spots to make sure I was soaking wet by the time I got anywhere. Nearly drowning the car on an everyday street would have done nicely, oh wait. That did happen. Lousy rainwater, pooling and obscuring everything with its splish splash. Well I didn't feel like taking a bath.