Getting mad.

Mr.Zavags’s face turned from a pale veiny purple to a deep maroon normally reserved for senior citizens attempting to lift fridges sans aid. Ray seldom pined for umbrellas, but as Zavags began to shout, the amount of foam and saliva he spewed was enough to stir a desire within Ray for a rain poncho, at the very least.

As difficult as it was to understand Zavags in the best of moods, a furious Zavags became as incoherent as he likely was after a bottle of his favourite bathtub blood whisky. Unable to focus, Ray’s mind wandered, and he pictured what Jesus’ shower would look like during a second coming in modern age. He imagined three knobs: hot water, cold water, and holy water. The idea tickled him immensely. A sudden silence brought Ray back to reality.