The Man Who Owns a Cloud

I would like to meet the man, who claims to own a cloud. I’ve heard that after a beer or two, he’d yell out drunk and proud: “See that cloud over there? The one beyond that tree? Well that cloud is mine, ya hear? Its rain belongs to me!” It could be a tale that’s told to those whom logic and reason rule, but I know of three men who’d say believe the drunk old fool! “Now how is that?” three young men asked, “What rights have you to that claim? Is that cloud quite loyal to you? Only fools think clouds are tame!” “You’re wrong! You’re wrong, all of you, It’s just like you own your cars. Who are you to tell me what is mine? Does Orion not own his stars?” “Prove it to us! Proof! Proof! Let us see it with a sober eye!” “Alright, okay, if it’s proof you need, but you should know a drunk don’t lie.” The three got up and followed he who claimed the cloud was whipped, As they walked, those men agreed, that last drink he should’ve skipped. Beneath the cloud he raised his arms, and spoke his vocal twitches: “Cloud, rain floods upon these men, and drown the sons of bitches!” Those three laughed at the drunken man, until they felt a drop. Then another, and then it poured, the raining wouldn’t stop. Water rose above their necks, one of the three let out a cry: “Why is it that we’re swimming here, while you stay comfortably dry?” “I told you dolts this cloud was mine, and a fool you made of me! Quiet now, and drown in silence, for soon your Maker see.” “Make it stop, we believe! This cloud is surely yours! No more will you hear from us, just please, close heaven’s doors!” The rain stopped quite suddenly, ending the three men’s pain. Walking away he turned and said: “I’ll bill you for the rain.” Yes, I would like to meet that man If he brings his cloud to town, for there are a number of fools living here, all of which I’d like to drown.