I am the rainman.

I don’t mean like some idiot savant Dustin Hoffman Qantas…Qantas never crashed retard who can perform brilliant mathematical equations.

No.
I wish.
I can’t divide for shit.
Unless it’s with a Samurai sword.

No.
I mean, as in I have the power to control the weather.

Yes.
That’s right.
God-like powers, if you will.

See, when I was child, I got caught in an acid rain cloudburst, which left me cruelly and horribly disfigured. And very drenched. But it also left me with superhero powers, which enabled me to redirect the rain and reduce the wild wind to a whimpered whisper.

And like a proper superhero, I used those powers for good. Like summoning cyclones to flood roads and bridges, so we all got a week off school.

But then one day my father chastised me for being a dreamer, and he ordered me to throw those toys away and grow up.

It broke my little 23-year-old heart, but I decided to do as he commanded, and so I lined all my GI Joes up against the wall and executed them. Then I harvested their organs and sold them on e-bay to people needing transplants.

I also hung up my Yellow Lightning cape and mask and forgot all about my childhood powers.

And I commenced living a mere mortal’s life.

But then something happened in this month of May--this month of rain, this month of early winter showers and long hot baths, of wet lawns and muddy boots--that reminded me of my childhood powers: I wasn’t getting wet.

When you cycle to work and back, and spend your morning, lunch and afternoon breaks outside, you expect that sooner or later the rain will be an issue.

But the rain is falling either side of those times.

I’m skipping between the raindrops, like lightning on a mission from God.

I wake early to the sound of something crashing into the tiled roof. I roll over and go back to sleep, and when I get up for work, it’s Lycra Cycling Weather.

People give me funny looks as I head outside into the storm with my lunch. But seconds later the wind dies down and the sun comes out.

COWorkers laugh at me for having ridden on such a wet day, and HaHa, how are you going to get home without drowning? and I stand up, walk calmly to the window, look up at the clouds and go Shhhh, baby. Settle… And 20 seconds later it’s all sunshine, lollypops and rainbows.

I think this is the universe’s way of telling me that it wants me to go be a superhero, instead of the leader of a post-Apocalyptic tribe.

So the cape’s coming back out.

My first act shall be to send a hurricane to fight the fires currently smiting the people of Florida.

You can thank me later.

But remember, peopleit’s crucial that you keep my secret identity safe. Otherwise, I’ll rain on your parade. Just like Vengeful God in the Old Testament times.

And at 6’ 4” tall, I’m bigger than Jesus.

Ah fuck it. I’ve probably gone and jinxed myself, blasphemously bragging about my power over the elements.

I can see tomorrow’s headline:

Caped idiot drowns while cycling to work in 6’ 5” inches of water…

Yes, that’s right. I can see tomorrow’s headline.

Cos I’m also psychic.

No wait. I mean psycho.
I’m a dyslexic pyshco.
Ugh.

See!

I’ve been trying to teach D-Girl how to control the weather.

She can already sing the ‘Rain, rain, go away’ song.

Well, it’s actually more like ‘Rain! Go way! Go way!’

But it’s still all very cute and clever and all.

But it would be waaaayyy more impressive if she finally gained the power to get to the damn potty in time…