John Was Wrong

I said to John that the sky was looking sort of weird. I guess he didn’t hear me so I said it louder this time, making sure to catch his eye.
“Hey John, the sky looks kind of weird.”
He shrugged, picking at the mole above his upper lip the way he always did when he was bored.
“It’s probably just your sunglasses. The tint might be peeling off or something.”
I looked at the sky again, making sure to watch the clouds that looked kind of like when you spit, and then mix it with tar. I bumped his shoulder and he stopped picking at his mole again, sighing.
He looked up, overgrown hair tumbling down his back and watched the clouds with me.
“It’s a storm.”
“No! Storms don’t look like that!”
“Remember the storm a couple of weeks ago? The clouds looked just like that. Now can we please go? The ice cream truck is about to move.”
John ran ahead to the truck, buying a popsicle. Just as he grabbed the popsicle fire came out of the sky. Or, at least I think it was fire.

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