The summer had been a hot and dry one,
and the local water tower felt pride in finally being able to aid his
fair city, to water its lawns and cool its children, to make the
grass grow ever green. On the day they were to open his floodgates to
the parched world and let him give drink, a meddlesome rainstorm
stole his thunder. “A conspiracy!” he cried, but who could argue
with the cumulonimbus's alibi? He was from out of town, and the city
had all dried up. He assumed if there had been a water tower, it
would have been put to use already. The water tower sighed and put on
his most patient face. The storm cloud would take the spotlight
today, but the tower was no fly by night operation. No, he would
always be there for his city, and one day, when the hurricanes came
and people cursed the storm, they would turn to him for water
pressure and on that day, he would hold his head higher than ever.
- Originally mailed to D. Garner of Biloxi, Mississippi
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