Kir McLeod
July 08, 2020 6:14 PM
It's raining, it's pouring by Kir McLeod
Kir leant back, stretching out his shoulders with a sigh. The rain was steadily flecking the window and, he realised as he picked it up, his teacup was empty. He had really hoped to be much further into this essay by the time he ran out of tea again.The trouble with studying politics was it involved… well, politics. He was trying to work out how to complete this particular essay on reasons why there had been a united uprising of different Beings in the 1960s, without simply listing a phrase that rhymed with ‘racist duckwits’ again and again in increasingly large capital letters. On the plus side, he wasn’t expected to argue both sides or debate whether it was reasonable. Just document all the various crap they had been going through.
There was a knock on his door and he turned to see CJ standing there.
“Hey buddy, s’up?” Kir smiled.
“It’s raining!” CJ declared.
“Yeah, I noticed,” sighed Kir, the weather not having done to much improve the feeling that everything today was going to be a little on the grey side.
“You said we could go puddle jumping when it rained!” CJ reminded him.
“So I did!” Kir declared. He gave the essay a quick glance but… well, a promise was a promise. The weather suddenly seemed much improved. “Go get your wellies – rain boots,” he corrected himself from the word he’d grown up with to the one that CJ would need to make people outside of this house understand him.
He followed CJ down to the hall, helping him balance as he wiggled his feet into the little green wellies they’d dug up from the attic. They had removed the marker pen that had spelt out Kir’s name and shrunk back down to CJ’s size. Kir remembered wearing them – after all, magic made shoes last much longer, and – to the curiosity of his non-magical classmates – he’d been able to reliably find the same frog wellies, with their little eyes on the toes, year after year. He transfigured his own shoes to match, aware that it was maybe pushing credibly in their non-magical neighbourhood that he’d found adult ones, but just hoping no one would care too much. Most people out into the rain would be hurrying to get out of it.
He tugged CJ into a little cape with a ducky hood, refraining from matching himself on that front, and settling for a black anorak with a bright rainbow lining instead.
“Okay,” he grinned, “Remember what froggies like?” he asked.
“Mud! And puddles! And muddy puddles!” CJ grinned, looking forward to submerging his feet in all of those so that just the little eyes on the toes peeped out.
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Kir McLeod
It's raining, it's pouring
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