On days like today, when it is cold and rainy and generally feels like the world is reflecting the sad, twisty torment of my soul, I wonder just who controls these crazy ups and downs of this meteorological mayhem we experience each day.
Then I remember, it’s Pudge the Fish, and someone must have forgotten to give him his sandwich today.
You see, Pudge controls the weather, and like any mighty god of land or sea, Pudge requires frequent offerings of pureed peanuts and oil spread on slabs of bread, and if he does not get it, he will rise from his salinated home and tear you down with some severe atmospheric dampness.
Pudge is not to be underestimated. He may be a tiny fish trapped inside a tank, forced to share his home with dozens of others, but in there he is King, worshipped in secret late at night as the other fish serve him for the entirety of their short, aquatic lives (Pudge, of course, is immortal). I’m certain that we have Pudge to blame for that Bomb Cyclone nonsense a few weeks back, and for the inspiration to give it that completely nonsensical name.
So, how do I get this weather back to the sunny frigid temperatures I’ve gotten used to in my upper midwest home these last few months? I imagine I’ll have to convince a small Hawaiian child to make an offering to Pudge on my behalf, right, since he seems only to speak to children, much like the imaginary friends you KNOW are actually ghosts haunting your home but are too afraid to get any details.
Man, supernatural beings are so picky.