First of all, you won’t believe this.
Recently I’ve discovered something so amazing, so revolutionary, so utterly unbelievable, that I can no longer keep it a secret.
Ready for this? (You’ll want to sit down first.)
It seems I’ve been gifted with some kind of mystical, magical powers.
Well, one power for certain. I know it sounds crazy, but stay with me, okay? Ready?
I can make it rain.
I don’t know exactly how it works. I just know it does work.
I’ve long suspected that I had this ability, but now I am convinced. The mounting evidence can no longer be ignored. And I actually stumbled upon this secret by accident! (Send $49.99 for my book on my AMAZING discovery, For Real, Y’All, I Can Make It Rain! Operators are standing by.)
You see, for several years I’ve observed the apparent correlation between the days and times my grass is mowed, the formation of rain clouds, and the days and times it has rained. Based on my observation I have concluded that rainfall invariably arrives within a small window of 24-36 hours after the last blade of grass is cut.
Recently I conducted an experiment to prove my hypothesis. For several weeks, I purposely refrained from calling my hired lawn maintenance guy, thereby allowing the grass to grow unhindered. I watched as my nicely trimmed lawn began to grow higher each day, until finally my front and back yard were undistinguishable from a South American jungle. Fortunately, I don’t have a 1975 Trans Am sitting on cinder blocks in the front yard, or it would have undoubtedly been swallowed up by the Bermuda Triangle of lawns.
One morning an old rusty pickup truck stopped in my driveway. The older gentleman driver inquired about buying several bushels of corn. I told him I had no corn for sale that day. He asked me to take a look anyway. I told him that my cousin, Billy Jack, walked out into the field two weeks ago to pick corn and hadn’t returned. He looked at me for a long time, the same way your dog looks at you when you tell him it’s time to see the vet. Finally he nodded and said he would try the farmer’s market.
All this time not one single drop of rain fell from the sky.
Finally, I called my lawn care guy and said, “Its time.” When he arrived, he took a long look around the yard. I honestly felt a tear form in one eye.
After several minutes he looked at me, swallowed, and said, “If there’s a family of Sasquatches out there, my kids get everything I have.” Then he climbed aboard his Acme Big Boy Four Wheel Drive Lawn Tractor with the 5.0 Liter V-8 engine and began slicing all those 8-foot stalks of grass to ribbons.
Within a few hours, my acre-and-a-half of lawn had returned. Birds rejoiced in song as they sat in the trees, a rainbow appeared over my back yard in stunning widescreen Technicolor, and the sun smiled down at me and winked an Attaboy! My neighbor’s cat, which had been missing for weeks, mysteriously reappeared in the lower part of the Back 40, albeit in a rather disoriented condition. My neighbor insisted that I accept a reward of five gallons of goat milk, a $25 gift card to Dollar General, the deed to his moonshine still, and a box of Red Man. I politely declined.
This morning as I walked out to my carport to get in the car, I heard the unmistakable sound of something falling softly on my roof.
Rain. Blessed rain.
With amazement, I gazed out upon my freshly manicured lawn. “Is that rain?” I said softly, my voice trembling. Witty devil.
And lo, it was.
My yard, damp with the morning rain, was now saturated in a deep shade of green.
I think we can all agree that the evidence is irrefutable and incontrovertible. Somehow, I have tapped into some mysterious atmospheric meteorological phenomenon by which I am able to control the frequency of rainfall (with a 24-36 hour margin).
Some have called me The Rainmaker. Some have dubbed me The Rain Guy or Rain Dude. Others call me Rain Man or Dances With Rain or He Who Summons the Rain.
I am a simple man with a simple brain. I ask not for titles or fame or glory. I ask only that you reach into your wallet or checkbook and order my AMAZING book.
Operators are standing by. 78