Oh Babe You're So Wet

Hunkering on the damp altar, the unwitting nuptial participants blinked at each other. One flicked a lazy tongue. The priest chanted louder, the better to reach the damp ears of the rain gods. A fortnight later, the skies wept. Possibly over the drowned crops and devastated buildings. The newlyweds, who didn't care how soggy things got, were brought back for a swift divorcement. That done, the priest prodded the sodden earth with a doleful toe. He eyed the clouds, pondering divine bureaucracy.

"Next time," he mused, "Maybe just a rain dance."

"Ribbit," agreed the ex-husband.

"Ribbit ribbit" said the ex-wife.

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Thank you for reading!

This is based on a "news story" (term used very loosely) from 2019. It tickled me. I hope it tickled you, too.

If you, like me, are a Brit as unprepared for sunshine in summer as we are for snow in winter, I hope this helped refresh you. Give me your rainy tales in the comments so I can reciprocate the read :)

See you tomorrow!

Ribbit, ribbit.