Folks took it in stride the first month without rain in Baugus County. The second month that’s all anyone talked about. People stopped talking about it the third month. Looked like a bona fide drought.
We keep the dealership garage open late Fridays. Tommy Jancock came into the garage about closing time. Tommy strikes folks as simple. He’s not. Considering what he’s been through, he does well, provides for himself. Runs errands for folks in town. Does heavy garden work. Works hourly for anyone needing help. Tommy’s muscle for older folks, businessmen, and farmers. Works cheap, works hard, works good.
Clarice, my office manager and cashier had already gone home. I ducked into the office when Tommy walked in.
“Here for Ms. Waters’ car,” Tommy announced.
“All ready to go Tommy. Tell Ms. Waters, she’s good for another five thousand miles.”
“Yes sir.”
“Hot eh, Tommy?”
“Yes sir, but it’s gonna rain.”
“Weathermen don’t think so.”
“Got clouds.”
“Been cloudy every evening for two weeks. We have any rain yet?”
“No sir.”
“Weathermen say wrong kind of clouds.”
“Gonna rain.”
“What makes you think so?”
“Can feel it.”
“Capitol City Weathermen say the air and humidity ain’t right. They say as much chance of snow as rain.”
“Too hot for snow.”
“Know that Tommy. Weathermen are making a point.”
“Gonna rain.”
We’d worn the subject out. Tommy didn’t talk long about much. The accident that took his folks cause for that mostly, more I think than the fact the same accident left him, well, slow. I gave him the keys to Ms. Waters’ Buick.
The mechanics hanging around waiting for dusk and cooler air before heading home spoke briefly with Tommy, then left themselves. After closing the showroom, I piddled in the office until I heard Norman, my shop foreman, start the overhead doors rumbling closed.
“All locked up! Heading out!” yelled Norman as he passed the office.
After setting the alarm, pulling the side door closed, hearing the lock snap shut, I stepped into the evening air.
And into the rain.
Ramblings 
We like that Tommy feller.
Piddling? Deliberate ambiguity?
Over here it can mean messing about, pissing, or raining!
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Bravo! Piddling in most common use (here in the US(of)A where English is poorly practiced) is “messing around” or doing a whole lot of nothing wasting time or idling. Less common, a tiny amount. Rare, and depending on how momma described little brother Ralph’s potty training to the bridge club (a la 1950), to wet ones knickers (do only lady people have knickers?) or extremely unusual and colloquial, any unexpected, sometimes uncomfortable dampness. The narrator was indeed “messing about.” The word choice though hints at the close – an unexpected dampness. 100 points to PM Hobbo! Pick the next category, sir. Thanks for popping by.
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😂😂😂 You can’t beat a bit of ambiguity ( I said to Mrs Hobbo) when she caught me trumping!
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That Tommy sounds just like my plumber who also runs a marionette theatre in the neighbourhood…nice guy but a piss poor plumber…
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Very nice! I love how understated it is while combining melancholy with whimsy! Loved it!
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Thank you sir. For stopping by and for your gracious comment.
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Tommy must be a card-carrying member of the International Society for Biometeorology, founded by . . . Tromp, indeed, a relation, if I’m not mistaken.
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Tommy is just Tommy. Smells like it, looks like it, he calls it. He’d be a Repullican except he’s pretty much above politics. Like hanged-near every character I work, I put them in a situation; if something happens, I let it run; if not, generally end up scrapping the project. Even fiction has to be believable. Discounting werewolves, vampires, second-rate SciFi, and politics, of course. Thanks for stopping by and dropping words. Appreciate it.
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Above politics, hehe, that’s cute.
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