Gunk dances in the rain
I was planning on taking a shower this morning. But first the phone rang, then there was a parcel at the door and next I had some things to write. After that, I was hungry and had lunch. Thus I ended up sitting around in my dressing gown all morning and I didn’t get to take my shower until it was afternoon.
That is how Gunk found out what a shower is.
When she came in, I didn’t hear her at first. She must have used the cap-flap, as usual, but the shower made enough noise to hide the sound. I did hear the cat, hissing quite loudly, before storming out. That time I did hear the cat-flap go “bang”. Gunk was walking around the house, calling my name (or something to that effect) trying to figure out where I was hiding. At least, that’s is what I assume she was doing. When she came into the bathroom, she was already complaining that, if I wanted to play hide-and-seek, I should:
a) Tell her beforehand, so she wouldn’t have to guess which game we’re playing, and
b) At least make an effort to hide and maybe not sing, as that kind-of gives the whole game away.
Before she got to “c”, however, she went quiet and looked at the shower with wide eyes.
“Whoa!” Gunk exclaimed, “You’ve got indoor rain!”. She cocked her head to one side and said, more to herself than to me, “You know, if you wanted it to rain, you could’ve just asked…” But her contemplation was soon replaced by her normal aggrieved tone as she corrected me by stating, “Anyway, that’s not how you get the rain to stick to you, silly! Move over, I’ll show you!”. As I stepped out of the shower to make room for her, she did mention that she approved of dancing in the rain naked, especially when singing. Although she didn’t think me very smart, as there clearly wasn’t enough room in the shower to perform any sort of sensible dance.
Apparently, as she explained while I toweled myself dry, there are all sorts of things you can do with rain. Even with my weird, local, indoor kind of rain.
First, she demonstrated that being water-proof simply meant that the water should flow around you. It was as if, by some intricate design or secret agreement, the water was trying to remain Gunk-proof. Next, she demonstrated how to make a large shawl out of rain-droplets. She went on to turn the shawl into a sort of cape. Next, she began to do a wild dance, which made me understand quite clearly how much space I in fact would need if I were to perform such a dance. I wasn’t sure my garden would afford me enough space, let alone my bathroom. Pondering this, I put on my clothes.
As often happens when Gunk explains things to me, I was beginning to feel more and more out of my depth. Even more so when she, with a movement of her arm and a weird nod of the head, simply turned my shower off. The water didn’t gradually stop, as happens when you turn the tap closed. One moment the water was falling in abundance and then, all at once, the shower space was empty. Except for a weird little creature with deceptively sharp teeth, wearing a cape made of rain.
Gunk jumped out of the shower and beckoned me to follow. “Now,” she said, heading for the kitchen door, “let me show you how it is really done.” I followed her outside and watched her do the same wild dance again. Only, this time, there was something different. Her movements were just a bit wilder. Her jumps higher. Where it had actually looked like something resembling dancing inside, out here it was something else. There was also something happening to Gunk. A blueish light was gathering around her. It played across her face and crackled around her arms. It threw weird shadows and pulsated slightly as it grew brighter.
Having been a clear-sky bright-blue at first, the color surrounding Gunk shifted through a cloudy gray to a stormy dark blue. That’s when I realized the sky was also changing color, matching the light around Gunk. Just when the realization hit me, Gunk made one final capricious jump and, when she hit the ground, so did large drops of rain. Water fell in thicker and thicker sheets, neatly missing Gunk as she headed back to where I was standing. All the while smiling one of her most satisfied smiles yet. “See, that’s how you do it!”.
Apparently, Gunk had made it rain. I have to admit, she knew what she was doing. It rained so much that, by the end of the second day, I was afraid her home might be flooded. Standing at the bottom of the garden, holding my umbrella, I understood there was no need to worry. The pile of rubbish, which hides the entrance to her underground habitat, was apparently also water-proof (in the same way Gunk had been). Or maybe the rain was just afraid to enter Gunk’s lair uninvited. I know I would be… I shrugged my shoulders and went back inside.
It didn’t stop raining for another three days.
During this time, there was one more, minor, incident worth mentioning. Whatever Gunk had done to my shower worked a bit too well, as I was no longer able to turn the water back on. In fact, none of the taps in the bathroom seem to work anymore. I discovered this, to my detriment, after having come back from my visit to Gunk’s house, trailing mud, wanting to wash it off in the bathroom sink. Unhindered by any knowledge of how these kinds of things work, I thought I’d better get a man in to fix it.
So I called the nice man with the blue van. The next day, he was as perplexed as I was, right up to the point where he stood underneath the showerhead when it abruptly came on again. He jumped out from under the streaming water, in a flood of curses, and declared the shower fixed. “The bathroom is now ready for you to clean” he grunted, looking disapprovingly at the mud and muck on the floor. After that, he wrote me an extra-large bill for having gotten wet inside, as well as having to struggled through the downpour outside. I didn’t really mind, as I could wholeheartedly sympathize.
I’m not entirely sure (as the sudden indoor torrent produced enough noise to hide it), but I thought I heard a tiny, tinkling laugh. Not unlike the one Gunk releases after she has beaten me at whatever game we would be playing at the time.
Whichever it was, at least I got to use my shower again.
All stories in this repository are created by Ben & Pimmie
Peachey/Schoorl
and licensed under a Creative Commons
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