They said death comes in threes, and I wait to see if the rumor is false... Alas, the third came just yesterday, a man who now sits, arguing with god on philosophies and politics. A good man, he was, a man with a big belly and a white beard so pretty, he'd make a perfect canidate for the next St. Nick. I'd always see him with a flannel shirt, and denim overalls, heard his warm voice filling the house with a welcome melody that rivaled the Angels he now joins... A modern day pioneer, who could make some very valid points about the pyrimyds of the world and extra terestrial life. "Do you think God would let us be so selfish to think that we are alone in this universe?"
He will be missed, fondly.
Since he is the third in this rumored saying, it's hard to sit here and really.... mourn, I guess... Its the one that makes you numb to the sorrow that comes with death.
Its like: you hold an umbrella in your hands, and the rain is light, but then it comes pouring down... The wind starts to blow so hard, that you can feel it pushing against your back, and pulling at the damned umbrella with a force stronger than your own... There it goes, folks, the umbrella is inside out, THE UMBRELLA IS INSIDE OUT! MOVE! MOVE! MOVE! And then comes the sheets of rain, its cold, your drenched to the bone, and you look like hell, and you know you're gonna be sick in the morning...
Poor umbrella, never had a chance... And poor you, dripping wet... Could it get any worse?
SPLASH! Son of a #%@$&...! There, through the mud puddle, drove a car... Now, you're done... Done...
By the time the splash to the face, you calmly walk down the sidewalk toward dry land...
That is called the Umbrella Effect, and it happens to everyone...
Right now, it's my turn...
I am drenched with what is the rain of life, and I just want it to ease up on me some. I'm so cold that I'm numb, yet I keep putting one foot in front of the other to walk through that rain, with hopes that those swollen and fat storm clouds would stop following me, my umbrella cannot take another beating. It's prongs are bent beyond repair, and here I am, left standing with the distorted object, with no optimism for it to end.
Let's hope the rumor is true, and death only comes in threes, because the umbrella effect has affected me enough for a lifetime...