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Brief Conversations at the Town Hall Party in a 


Thunderstorm

By C.L. Sinclair






Rain was pouring heavily. Strong gusts and crushing sounds of thunders frighten everyone in the neighbourhood. Even Mr. Popper never stood a chance, whose ursine physique always scares off hookers for some obvious reasons.
The thunderstorm has never been this violent.
“I don’t understand” says Lucius Jennings, who happens to be the eccentric town mayor of Roseleaf and the man behind the infamous trial of the notorious gay murderer Anselm Wright.
“This town never had a storm before, not as strong as this one.”
Three hours before the storm touched down in Roseleaf, the day was tranquil. There was no news from the local radio station about an approaching bad weather.
T’was January 5th, the town’s annual Cabbage Festival. Every year, the people of Roseleaf commemorates one of the town’s most important date – 5th of January was the only recorded incident of cabbages falling from the sky. A lot of people witnessed the bizarre phenomenon. Although up to this day that nothing and no one has explained such occurrence and that the mystery has created a lot of speculations which are sometimes preposterous and all the time ridiculous, the townspeople are fortunate to even have a reason to celebrate a festival.
“This isn’t right at all!” exclaimed Moody Matthews.
“What do you think is happening, Moody?” asked Lucius Jennings.
“I have no idea at all, Mayor. It’s kind’a weird though, we’ve been stuck here for hours and nobody even called for help.”
“Do you know what’s weirder, Moody? There, there, take a look at her bosom. Every single day her boobies are getting bigger and bigger.”
“Who? Brenda Johnson?”
“No. That woman in an inappropriately short green dress. I don’t know her name but damn she is ample. Imagine how lucky the guy who sleeps with her. Whew, trust me; no one can scale two Mt. Kilimanjaros at the same time! Ha, you must bump this!”  loudly exclaimed Lucius, thrusting his right fist towards Moody. “But I’m sure ‘that guy’ can traverse that woman’s Grand Canyon, repeatedly!”
“But Mayor........”
While Moody Matthews and Lucius Jennings are conversing, an unexpected happening just occurred in front of them. Across the town hall lobby where everyone gathered to calm themselves with booze, an ugly thirty-one year old woman screamed. She saw somebody standing beside Lucius and Moody. She perhaps recognized the man.
“A.....An....Anselm Wright?” uttered Moody in a trembling voice who is shocked by what he is seeing.
Almost seven hours had passed. The storm hadn’t ceased and everyone is still in the town hall, but the boozes and Cheetos that kept a lot of fatty lesbians, desperate hobos, grudging feminists and most of the pretentious elites and social climbers in their youthful hopes had gone out. A lot showed faces of anxiety and horniness. But nobody even dared to call for help.
“Hello, Moody. What gives? Are you surprised I dropped by? You know, you wouldn’t really expect a lot of things as you would assume they would turn out to be!” sardonically exclaimed Anselm. “Now if you excuse me, I’ll have my share of the festival’s blessings. And by blessings, I mean, those captivatingly young lads getting drunk over there.”
As Anselm left the two gentlemen where they were standing the whole time, Moody tapped Lucius back to his senses. He never noticed Anselm was there – he was pervertedly staring at the woman in the inappropriately green dress.
“You know......that woman is really giving me a boner right now.” secretly whispered Lucius.
Moody replied back, “Mayor! For Christ’s sake! Anselm Wright was just beside us a moment ago! How did he even get out of the penitentiary? Aren’t you worried a criminal is wandering around the town? What am I thinking? Anselm died two years ago!
“Just for once, Moody, please listen to me. I’m really serious about hitting that woman. I don’t mean to hit her with my strong, young arms....what I mean is I want to hit her ‘Mariana’s Trench’ rock hard! If you know what I mean!”
While the two were talking, an old man with a very long white beard who looked like Santa Claus only in white robe interrupted their awkward conversation.
“Hey there! Is your night getting cooler? The thunderstorm trick was awesome right?
“What do you mean?”, replied Moody.
“Oh. You know, I got bored up there. Watching you guys all the time, saying the same words over and over again like ‘You’re not in the list. I’m sorry. You’re going down to Hades’ crib.’ or ‘Congratulations! You made it to my kingdom! Enjoy and spend the rest of your eternal life!’ This job of mine can be pretty tough too as you humans might not expect. And the worst part is, there’s no party and getting-drunk sessions up there! Besides, those monkish, bald, virgin saints are not party-people.....even Peter wouldn’t hang out with me.
“What are you talking about?” said Moody with a curious face and very irritating frown.
“Look, Dude, those who work for me are total losers. My angels hated me because I didn’t give them wings. I blame you humans for inventing such idea of ‘winged angels’ to make them beautiful in your awful paintings and frescoes. Well guess what, they don’t even have faces, and they only have two toes and a single foot! But that’s not the point here. What I’m saying is, my immortal life is miserable.”
“What? Angels have no wings?” replied Moody, pretending to mind what the old man has been talking about. He still can’t get over with the fact that Anselm is in the town hall. Who could blame Moody anyway? A dead gay man in a party? That’s interesting.
“You know what, Moody, I’m going over there and bang that woman’s underground tunnel! Wish me luck!”
Lucius walked away, leaving Moody and the old man by themselves. Moody hasn’t been listening to Lucius after Anselm came up to them – which he will regret for the rest of his life.
“That guy just uses a lot of euphemisms. Anyway, where was I?”
Moody has been pretty agitated and uncomfortable.
“So what I did is I came up with two ideas to end my heavenly boredom and miserable disposition. First, I asked myself, ‘What am I going to do? I just can’t go anywhere I want, not in the watchful eyes of Mom and Peter. How can I get everyone busy so that I can sneak out?’ Then, I just knew what I’m going to do! To snap out of my boring state, I need to get to a party or something – to loosen up some grip and get wasted for a while. And to make everybody not notice me going down here, I told them to make apparitions around the world. It was a pretty good idea, right?
A stranger beside them, overhearing them talking, said, “So does that explain Mary Magdalene staring at me the whole time? Nice catch, you creepy old man who looks like an over-aged Jesus! Get a life and don’t fool around, you crazy moron.”
The old man turned his attention to what the stranger said.
“Hey kiddo, I think I didn’t like your tone!” said the old man.
“Oh yeah, mister? What are you going to do? Punch me in the face and beat me? Not with all the people seeing you do that to me! Beat it!”
The old man was bitterly insulted. One can tell he was pretty pissed off. But he didn’t like people witnessing what he does in Purgatory. He considered something better.
“Ok. Let’s get this over with. You know what kid, I got something for you.”
“Ah, Moody, will you please excuse? I’ll be out for a while but don’t go anywhere, we’ll be talking a lot of stuff when I come back from my.......from my.....from my business.”
The old man disappeared in thin air...and the stranger too. Moody’s attention was all along at Anselm who has been doing things unspeakable across the hall.
A few minutes later, the old man returned.
“Whew, I might have gone overboard on that one! So, what was the conversation all about?” said the old man, gasping for air.
“I notice you have some bruises in your fists. You might have taken care of some guys out there pretty seriously.” replied Moody, still pretending he cares about the old man’s ‘business’ – but his teary eyes are pointed to Anselm, this time he is quite unwilling to see more of Anselm’s abomination in a group of teenagers. He was secretly crying.
“Ah....ah.....you know, just manning up for a while.”
Three-thousand miles from Roseleaf, a 32-year old man was found lifeless, frozen and badly beaten in the Siberian winter. Local authorities are still investigating how the man got there and how the man died.
“Anyway, back to the usual business of ours, if you mind. What I did next is to find some place where there is party. Luckily, every place on the planet, there are people getting drunk and laid, partying. There were bitches everywhere, beer and pot – you can’t just imagine how much people could party to death! But then, after going to all parties in the world, I felt unsatisfied!”
“What happened next?”, Moody replied, to keep the man not noticing him not listening to most of what he’d been talking.
“To make room for more parties to go on, why not I “make” the party. Cool idea, right? Then what I did is, while stopping by your town noticing you’re in a festivity or something, I created a thunderstorm so you people would be here stuck in this town hall! With all the hard drinks and women, I’m sure this will make a party! And I wasn’t wrong at all! Not with Anselm with me to make the party wicked! Nice, right? Bringing him here wasn’t a mistake at all!
Moody’s attention was caught with what the old man just said.
“I’m sorry? Did you just say something about Anselm? Did you just say you ‘brought’ him here?
“Yes! Why? Take a look Dude, everybody is having fun! Look at what Anselm is doing, over the---.....’
The old man cut himself short. He can’t believe what he just saw.
“Oh myself! Is that....what the.....is he......is that Anselm?” asked the old man, terrified.
“Oh yes, Mister, you’re seeing what you’re seeing.” sarcastically exclaimed Moody.
“How come nobody notice it? That’s....that’s awful!” said the old man, pointing towards Anselm.
“Wait a minute, Mister. You said a while ago something about ‘bringing’ Anselm here. What does that even mean? Anselm has been dead for two years!”
“Oh! About that....I fetched him from hell before I get here. He was with me the whole time. I considered he might be a good company along the way!”
“I’m confused. Wait. How could you get somebody back to life?”
“No, no, no, no. Anselm is just a spir---...”
The old man soon realized he was talking too much for the last few minutes. He wasn’t supposed to say some things he would regret. He realized he was really, really drunk....which might have caused him to spill ‘a lot of beans’. He almost blew up his cover. But it’s pretty obvious he already did with his ill-thought choice of clothing and appearance.
“Oh....oh....bullocks. I was just kidding, Dude. I’m British! We Britons do make a lot of lies, you know!” exclaimed the old man, tapping his forehead to appear he was just really kidding. But his face looked as if he wasn’t telling the truth. He was nervous about something.
“How come you don’t have that British accent?”
“Oh boy....You know, don’t want to be different from the group. Want some chocolate bar?” said the old man who is obviously lying and is trying to change the topic so he won’t get caught.
“Huh?” replied Moody, who was even more confused for the last ten minutes.
“Want some Cheetos?” asked the old man, reaching out a pack of Cheetos to Moody.
“You know what, I’m pretty tired right now. I’m just-----........”
“Howdy, Gentlemen! D’ya having fun? If you ask me, I’d say ‘I’m totally “rocking” the boat, baby!’ But oh wait, it isn’t just a boat! It’s a fleet of ships! Who can beat that?” said Anselm in a slutty, drunk way.
“Your bottom must be pretty sore right now!” shouted a teenager whom Anselm had flirted with.
“Hey Moody! Check this out! I hooked up with that woman! I told you I can venture her pillowy mountains and that luscious passageway of chocolate!” exclaimed Lucius!
“What?” replied Moody.
“Good grief, Moody! What’s up with you? I’ve just been gone for a while!” Lucius checked his watch. “Oh, sorry about that, I must have been lost ‘wandering the wilderness’ without noticing the time, if ya know what I mean!”, Lucius replied, giggling.
“I’m terribly sorry for leaving you behind, Pal. The ‘plane’ left early and ‘landed on the runway’ pretty well! And boom goes the dynamite! The ‘pilot’ just had his shift!”, said Lucius, nodding as if victorious of his quest for debauchery.
“You know what, she told me her name, something like Jenna. You know what’s even shocking? She told me she’s married! At first, I was hesitant to go for it.....I mean, I don’t want to sleep with somebody else’s wife or something!”
“Really, Lucius? Really? exclaimed Moody angrily.
“What’s up with the angry face, Pal? You look like you want to strangle me! Ok, I admit it’s not good to hook up with a married woman, and I’m sorry about that. But for Pete’s sake, she’s irresistibly hot! So anyway, I decided I’ll do it. She said her husband might catch him. And I said, ‘Babe, look, you’re married and you’re lonely. Your husband must be a total fool to let you be like this. I mean, if you’re married, you would never go this far.....you’re still young and beautiful! Is your husband bad in bed? He could be gay, you know.”
“You bastard!”, shouted Moody, whose shaking knuckles can knock out anybody, not even Mr. Popper can handle it – who has been sitting beside the main door of the hall as a bouncer.
“Sorry, ok.....sorry. I might have insulted that girl and her loser husband but who cares? Do you Pal? So, going back to the story, after making her feel vulnerable so I can take control of her, we finally did it! We did in the toilet stall and there it was..... the night’s main event! After that, I asked her what her name was and asked for her number so that....you know....we could do it again. She said she can’t because she’s afraid her husband might know she’s cheating. I asked who her husband is and she said she’s married to something like Moody Matthews------.......”
Lucius Jennings stopped point-blank, realizing what he just did. He gathered his thoughts carefully.
“Oh my God!”, shouted Lucius, anxious, agitated, in shock. He couldn’t believe what he just did tonight.
“Son, don’t use my name for some stupid interjection”, said the old man.
“You know, you don’t get to heaven when you do that, am I right, God?, exclaimed Anselm.
“Don’t push it, Anselm. You’re blowing up everything here,” said the old man in return.
“Oh my! I didn’t realize she’s......that she’s.....she’s your----......”
“Wife. My wife, for Christ’s sake!”
“There! There it is again! Why do you keep on mentioning my name for interjection? It’s annoying! You know what, I’m out of here. You Anselm, you’re going back down there. And you.....you...what’s your name again? Lucius. Yes, Lucius. You’re going with me....you ass fornicator. I’ll punish you first in Purgatory and throw you to hell. And you, Moody...what am I going to do with you? Hmmmmmm. I’ll replace you’re wife with a new one. Jenna is coming with me too, you know, she might do some favour for me.......”
“Oh my God!”, said Moody.
“I’m just kidding, you...you....somebody!”
“And oh, just a note, the rain of cabbage thing was just a fluke. Peter and I had a bet that I can do it without anybody attributing the event to me. It was supposed to be a rain of fireballs, not cabbages. So thank you, me right?
“Oh well, we should better be going!” said God.
The thunderstorm continued for the next three weeks. Nobody knew what happened to the townspeople of Roseleaf.
While in heaven,
“Whoops. My bad! I forgot to clear the storm. Sorry about that!” said God.
“You know, you’re responsible for that.” replied Peter.
“I know, Pete. I know. And I can see that they’re just outside the Gate. Oh well, this would be a tiresome day. And those angry, vengeful faces? It creeps me out!”






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