It was a Monday, the first day of a damn black diagonal skyweek, when Ben saw the Raving Loonysod yet again, as always, poised screaming angry at the sky, "Aaarrrgghh, I hate you, you Fucksod, how dare you rain on me when I'm jumping in the happyfield, or shine sun on me when I am dancing in the sadroom like bangybang loonytrouser. I want to ram the ground down your face!"

It was always the same. It was always the same. It was always the same the whole damn time, even when it wasn't (which never happened, except when it did, which wasn't very often unless it was which it probably wasn't but I can't be completely sure) it was always the same unless it was different.

It was no use, but still he carried on raving at the sky like angryfaced shouthymouth. "Aaarrrggghhh! Green wobbly trouser bags to you, you big thing that spends the whole day being grey!"

"Oooh wacky bumtrouser elephant!" exclamed a man on a tricyle.

The End.

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Note: this was actually written back in September 2009, but I forgot about it.