It was a miserable, gray, dark night that day. The clouds trembled with rage as they thundered, their roars resonating throughout the entire city. Rain fell, downwards bound, plummeting towards the earth with a wailing screech. Crevices, even the most minor of holes on the street, were filled to the brim with great puddles of water, which shone black from the lurching clouds above. Faint remnants of litter, left abandoned in long forgotten corners of the pavement, were broken down by the fierce rainfall, dissolving the paper and spreading its ruins all across town. Worse yet, it was a Tuesday.

Beneath the silencer of the storm was a quiet, if somewhat annoying noise, of water splashing. Then, another one, slightly louder than the first, followed by another, and then another, and then another: each slowly increasing in volume, as though it trying to make itself heard over the raging thunder. Personally, though, Jimmy just liked hearing his footsteps splash in the puddles.

His dark brown shoes (which were, bizarrely, quite simple looking for someone so eccentric) squeaked as they skidded across the waterlogged pavement, sliding across the almost smooth surface. He gave out a small giggle, and then did it again. Jimmy was, admittedly, not the most sensible of people - and as mean as it may sound, he was a few edges away from being the sharpest tool in the shed - which could clearly be seen from the fact that, whilst everyone else was quietly tucked away in their own homes, sitting beside the nice warm fire, dry, and comfortable as can be, he was jauntily sauntering down the road in the cold and wet of the largest storm the town had ever seen.

He liked the rain though, in fact he liked most things (except from pickles, which he despised with a passion like no other). Through rain, or snow, through blistering heat or sub zero cold, once even during a particularly nasty bout of acid rain, he would, everyday, at anytime he felt like it, go outside, stretch his legs, and take a nice, relaxing walk, letting the wind take him wherever (well, alright, the wind wasn't actually taking him anywhere, but he had always liked the metaphor). So what if it was a little wet? A spot of rain wouldn't put him down, not on his walk. He was going to live life to its fullest. After all, you could never know when it would come to an end!

At some point in the journey (Jimmy was never much for paying close attention, so he couldn't really tell when he started), he began to sing a short, simple tune as he continued onwards, the pavement and mud squelching beneath the soles of his shoes as he walked.

"Ba ba ba, bada dadada…" he quietly sang under his breath, a big, toothy (or at least, it would've been toothy if it weren't for the two big gaps on either side of his teeth) grin plastered on his round face. He was so lost in his small little melody, in fact, that he didn't even notice the sign that was in front of him. Not until he hit it head-on, of course. With a small, surprised cry, he fell on his rear, before slowly picking himself, dusting his dress shirt off, and fixing his bowtie - a gift from his mother, which he cherished deeply - before looking at the offending object in question.

"Hey, excuse me- oh." He stared at the signpost, his mouth ajar slightly, and leaned in to read what was on it.

"Danger, rouge bus spotted, stay alert, yada-yada-yada…" he scratched his (hairless) chin, deep in thought as his amber eyes scanned the text. "Hmmm...that seems awfully contrived." He muttered, staring at the conveniently placed sign. Why someone would bother taking the time to write up, laminate, and then staple a warning sign on a lamp post on the side of a street seemed to escape him, but slowly a smile crept on his face once more.

"Glad to see that someone's looking out for others!" He declared, beaming from ear to ear. "Just hope I don't conveniently run into said bus. Boy, would that be embarrassing! Good things the odds of that are, like, a million to one!" And then, as though he had never stopped at all, Jimmy once more continued on his walk. Or at least, he did, for about ten or so more steps, before stopping dead in his tracks again. Wait, he heard something- he could've sworn he did. Yes! There it is again, the screeching sound of rubber as it scratched against concrete, the sounds of screaming passengers as they went careening down a tight alleyway, the scratching sounds of paint as it scrapped against the sides of th-

"Ah, runaway bus!" Yelped Jimmy, who launched himself backwards, just barely managing to dodge the aforementioned bus, which had just now gone flying off of a convenient nearby cliff. He panted, at a loss for words, his fourteen years of life flashing before his eyes. Jimmy's chest rose and fell, and beads of sweat slowly dripped down his forehead. "Phew, *huff* that was a *huff* close call." He gave a small, nervous laugh as he shakily picked himself up from the ground.

"Aaaanyway!" He cried, the joy back in his voice, "I should really be getting back to my walk! Good thing there's no more runaway buses to worry about! Or is it busi? Buseses?" He quietly (scratch that, loudly) pondered the thought of the plural of bus in his head as, with a spring in a step, and a happiness like no other, another, entirely unrelated bus, with absolutely zero connection to the previous one, lost control as its wheels spun around on a particularly slippery patch of road, and crashed right into poor little Jimmy, who - as several tons of steel impacted his body - was promptly and brutally smashed into gory pieces.

Now Jimmy had felt pain before, there was no question about that. Often he found himselfs getting into tight scraps and the like, not always without fault on his part, and he had his fair share of bruises, and cuts, and scratches by now. But this kind of pain absolutely killed, like nothing he had ever seen before. Speaking of seeing, he noticed a small, almost eye-like mass of white flash dangling on his mangled cheek. Coincidentally, he also noticed a very large blind spot in his vision. That, was very likely not good.

He tried to get up, but was hindered by the fact that, after he was literally hit by a bus, his legs had detached, and flown off the cliff with the earlier bus. He hacked a bloody cough, spitting out teeth and chunks of bone marrow, looked up towards the sky dizzily, as his mind slipped in and out of consciousness, as though this was a dream reaching its end. The clouds were clearing now, and he noticed the telltale sign of bright yellow light as the sun cheerfully bared down on the earth, seemingly unaware of the tragedy that had just occurred, still as bright and as beautiful as ever.

That would be the last Jimmy would see of the sun for a long time. And, as he took a long, deep, final breath, he died.