In the Rain

“Si-ingin’ in the rain,” he crooned,  “Just singing in the rain.”
He merrily swung his umbrella from his left shoulder to his right and did a little dance step. Twirling his umbrella joyously, he continued his walk down Main Street, rain pitter-pattering in his previous footsteps. His wrinkled, liver-spotted forehead was dripping with sweat from the superfluous moves he was making. It was surprising, then, that no one paid Mr. Kelley any attention on that cold November day.
Instead, the city was in a great uproar. Alarmed citizens were frantically darting in and out of their homes, gathering the last of their beloved belongings. Policemen patrolled the streets, helping the elderly and otherwise impaired get to safety. Children were pressing their faces against the icy car windows, gazing upon the mayhem that evacuation caused.
Giving a policeman a polite nod, Mr. Kelley ignored the general upheaval around him, just as those evacuating gave Mr. Kelley no notice as well. A solitary policeman stopped to talk with Mr. Kelley that day, wondering if he needed any help moving his things.
“No sir,” Mr. Kelley said with a toothy grin, “I’m all packed and ready to go.”
The policeman nodded and hurried across the street and into a large apartment building. Mr. Kelley didn’t stop for more than a moment, spinning his umbrella and skipping down the street as soon as the policeman left.
Mr. Kelley knew the cause for the pandemonium, but he didn’t mind much. The rain that had been filling up the dam to the north would not stop, and the dam was ready to bust at any moment. The night prior, all of the people in the valley were told to evacuate and leave their homes behind. Mr. Kelley was enjoying his one last stroll within the rain before his time came to depart.
A bright flash of lightning engulfed Mr. Kelley’s view for a second, before dispersing. Thunder roared in the distance, from somewhere behind the hills surrounding the valley. Mr. Kelley just chuckled.
“Wow,” he murmured, looking heavenward, “You sure do put on a show when you want to,”
Mr. Kelley very firmly believed that God had a sense of humor.

Mr. Kelley pranced past Main Street and into a small residential area. Coming to a small cottage, he stopped to take a breather. Inside the cottage, he could see boxes in every corner. A harried housewife was shouting something at her sweating husband and their kids were screaming and running in circles in the background.
“All of this,” Mr. Kelley mused, “because of a little rain,”
Reluctantly, he tore himself away from the scene and continued walking down the street, his umbrella defiantly trying to escape from his grasp.
Mr. Kelley found himself outside the city park.
“Well, I’ll be,” he chuckled, “I made it all the way to Kent Park without trying.”
Menacing clouds growled overhead as he stepped into the park. The bright orange, yellow and brown leaves rustled, and the maple trees swayed in the rising wind. Mr. Kelley, with his umbrella now held directly over his gray-haired head, concentrated on walking towards a soaking wet pile of rags that had coalesced upon a park bench. Gently, he shook the creature within the bundle of wool and cotton.
“Wake up,” Mr. Kelley whispered.
The man-thing groaned and sat up, his filthy face staring grumpily at the man who had just woken him up.
“Whaddaya want?” he snapped, his oversized hat dripping puddles of water down the sides of his face.
“I want you to get out of the city before it floods,” Mr. Kelley intoned, his face deadly serious, “Then I want you to go get a nice hotel room and order some hot food.”
“Whuh?” the homeless man asked, his grumpiness effortlessly transforming into confusion. Mr. Kelley took out his wallet and handed it to the homeless man.
“There’s over a hundred dollars in there. Go. Go!”
“Tha-thanks!” the homeless man stammered, staring at the gift that Mr. Kelley had so generously given.
The heavens flashed and the rumbling of thunder came again. As if awakened from a daze, Mr. Kelley’s words sunk in and the homeless man began running out of the park. Mr. Kelley watched him go for a few seconds, before slapping his own forehead in frustration.
“I should have given him my umbrella!” Mr. Kelley exclaimed.
Shaking his head, Mr. Kelley took the poor man’s spot on the bench and sighed. The umbrella at last broke free from Mr. Kelley’s frail grip and tumbled away.
“I just hope that this comes quickly, Lord,” Mr. Kelley prayed, his eyes closed, and his head turned to heaven.
As if in response, a thunderous noise deafened Mr. Kelley. He could almost see the preordained flood flashed through the city, demolishing buildings in the distance.
“I’m singin’,” Mr. Kelley sang softly, “Just singin’, in the rain.”