The grey sky loomed close to the treetops and sighed out endless rain. The rain drummed restless fingertips on the green leaves, the ground, the roof, everything. It was morning but dark as twilight. John looked out from the front window of his apartment at the underwater world. He stood there for a long time.
With every falling raindrop and every passing second there was only one thought on his mind–one word, to be specific. Moist. His world, his apartment, his life–they were all moist. He couldn’t take it anymore. He would find those responsible for making everything so moist, and he would make them pay.
“I’ll get you, Moist, if it’s the last thing I do!”