Once upon a time in a faraway land, it was raining.
Normally rain is not a remarkable phenomenon - we all know and accept the water cycle; revere it, take it as fact - we don't think twice about it, except when we with breasts are walking on the streets in white clothes.
However, on this occasion, the rain was rather unusual indeed.
For, you see, it was raining frog speens. (A/N: incidentally, DO frogs have spleens?)
The hero of our story after me, Gonnie Reah (a banker), darted across the street and ducked beneath the awning of a shop, just missing a particularly violent barrage of the aforementioned stuff.
"Good Morning, Mr.Reah!" called the shopkeeper cheerily.
"Not at all," said Gonnie gloomily. "I've a meeting in half and hour and couldn't possibly get there on time."
"Oh dear. Incidentally Sir, have you noticed the weather lately?"
"Yes. A bit choppy, isn't it?"
Gonnie sidestepped a falling spleen, which landed on a nearby sack of rice. He noticed this and frowned disapprovingly.
"Most insanitary," he said.
"Don't worry, Sir. I'll have it cleaned up in no time at all. OY!" he suddenly called, craning his cranium in the general direction of the jujubes.
I stepped out from my quaters, presently a fourth-hand cardboard box, bespattered in gecko excreta. The shopkeeper insisted he was a fair man, and that, as I progressed up the ladder of success, my living quaters would improve considerably in size and value. By the end of this year I expect to graduate from my shoebox to an altogether larger, roomier- preferrably newer - box.
"Cooroo, Mr.BossPerera," I said, saluting him cheerily with our traditional shop salute.
"Clean this up!" he snapped. "And take your fingers out of your nose!"
I removed the offending appendages from my nostrils and flounced flambuoyantly towards Gonnie.
"Good morning, Leonard," said Gonnie.
"Have you noticed something strange about the weather?"
"Well it's raining frog guts, isn't it?"
"Most perceptive. I see you have grasped my meaning."
We fell into a meditative silence.
"Yeah, it's a bit dodgy," I said finally.
"Do you have an inkling as to why the heavenly weathermen are running amock?"
"I expect the union's on strike, Sir."
"Don't be an idiot, boy!" interrupted Mr.BossPerera suddenly. "If they were on strike then it wouldn't be raining anything at all!"
"Hmm," hmm-ed Gonnie, "You have a valid point."
"In that case it must be part of the masterplot of a super villain."
"But I thought Dr.StrangeGlove was on holiday in the Bahamas?"
"Oh no," groaned Gonnie exasperatedly, his brow furrowed like a country vegetable patch. "Don't tell me it's another impersonator? Last week's episode was bad enough."
"It took me ages to get those radioactive slugs out of my rose bushes," grumbled Mr.BossPerera wearily.
Again, the meditative silence. My thoughts began to wander down the street and up the skirt of the fishmonger's niece. She had hairy legs and lime green underwear. My mind's eye began to bleed, so it shut itself with due haste and retreated as a dog might under similar circumstances, yelping painfully as it did so.
Back in the shop, Gonnie Reah sighed resignedly.
"I suppose we'd better save the day again then, Leonard," he said.
"Shall I prepare your suit?"
"Yes. And you also, Leonard. Get ready."
As Mr.BossPerera dissappeared into the storage area to retrieve Gonnie's suit, I hastily changed into my own. I tied a tablecloth around my neck, pulled a pair of red panties over my head, and another floral-print one over my jeans.
"All done!" I said, glancing up to meet Gonnie's concerned and inquiring gaze.
"Flowers, Leonard?" he asked. His expression was sympathetic and slightly reflected his wonderment as to my sexual preferences.
"My other pair's at the cleaner's, Sir." My voice was muffled because I'd forgotten to cut a hole in my mask for the purpose of aiding speech.
Mr.BossPerera finally returned wth the garment, which, to Gonnie's dismay, was frozen stiff.
"BossPerera! Whatever happened!?"
"A lady customer walked in on me unexpectedly just after the incident with the slugs, and er...I hid your suit in the freezer."
"And then you forgot about it."
"Something like that, yes."
"In that case, I'd like a cup of tea as we wait for my ceremonal garments to thaw. Leonard, has it stopped raining?"
"No, Sir. But it's become more of a drizzle now. The guts are getting smaller and smaller."
We watched old Mrs.HootlePing open up her umbrella and listened to the calming sound of fresh meat hitting synthetic material stretched tautly across a wire frame. Little puddles of blood oozed from around the scattered piles of spleens. Gonnie took off his bowler hat and placed it on the counter.
"Excellent. Take courage, boy," said Gonnie with a flourish of his walking stick. His features rearranged themselves into one of cocky, playboy-esque charm, and his feet alighted upon an overturned soapbox, from which he continued his inspirational monologue.
"Today you are no longer a shopkeeper's apprentice idiot, Leonard. For the rest of this adventure, you shall be FROOBIN THE WUNDERBOY, sidekick to the amazing CAPTAIN F.S SPARKLYPANTS!"
"This is coming out of your pay, Boy," grumbled Mr.BossPerera.
But I could not wallow in my misfortune. How could I, when adventure lurked just around the corner like a headmaster lurking in the shadows, trying to catch truants? Adrenaline was surging through my veins, and the air was thick with the scent of testosterone.
Outside, it was still raining frog spleens.
AWAIT PART TWO OF THIS EXCITING ESCAPADE!
Note: In the event anyone actually reads this let me express my mild surprise in advance.