OH MY GOD !

I remember feeling totally disgusted when it happened.

I was standing in line at Jamba Juice when I noticed something weird crawling over my skull. My fingers reached for my head: I surely felt something moist.

My nose and eye brows wrinkled into my icky-face. I looked up and hoped this was not the spit of some college kid trying to score free beer from his buddies. If it was, he sure had hit me good.

I wasn't the only one pointing fingers, though. I saw the chick standing in front of me running her fingers through her purple dyed hair. With a jolt she turned to catch my eye. I could see the terror in her eyes. She held out the hand smothered in seemingly slimy wetness and said, "Did a bird just poo on my head?!"
I really wanted to say yes. But I didn't.

For a moment, there was panic at the galleria. People slowed down their pace and had trouble finding their balance on the slippery pavement. Cell phones were jacked out of purses and pockets to make apologetic phone calls to those waiting with dinner at home.

This was unearthly: RAINDROPS WERE ACTUALLY FALLING FROM THE SKY.

Glorious traffic jams would unavoidably await us all now.

...

Get out of here, clouds of wetness. Be gone.