And De Fun Don't Done by Robert G. Barrett

blisteringly hot but a massive black cloudfront seemed to be moving in from the Gulf of Mexico. While he waited for Hank to finish his smoke Les watched the clouds, and two families of Americans flopping around under the shower. They were the fattest heaps of shit Norton had ever seen. One mother made Roseanne Barr look like Princess Di and one father could have been John Candy’s stunt double. They’re certainly not starving round here, thought Norton, as they finally drove off.
    Les didn’t quite know what to say to Hank as they were driving home and Hank wasn’t saying much. Norton had had enough fun with the poor goose for the time being and if he wanted to get out for a few cool ones it might be an idea to start buttering Hank up, galling and all as the idea was. Les suggested that if he wanted to go out that night Les would shout, pay back Hank for all his wonderful hospitality and the cost of the bullets Les had used. Norton had money coming out his ears and he wouldn’t miss slipping Captain Rats fifty bucks or so. Besides, he was such an arse he’d probably only drink cheap beer and tequila. Hank grumbled and moaned and carried on like a good sort about his business commitments, then said okay. He had a lot of phone calls to make but he’d call in on Les at 9.30. That pretty much suited Norton.
    When they pulled up next to the old carport Les took his watch from his overnight bag and was astonished to find it was getting on for seven. The sun was still high in the sky and apart from that ominous cloud build-up moving across it still seemed like just after lunchtime. Where did the day go? thought Les.
    â€˜Hey, Hank,’ said Les, as they got their gear from the back of the car. ‘Do you have daylight saving in Florida?’
    â€˜I don’t know,’ answered Hank. ‘I guess so.’
    Norton stood and watched Hank’s back as he walkedto his house. He was going to say something, but what could he say after that? ‘I’ll see you at half past nine, Hank.’ Les shook his head a couple of times and went inside.
    Norton had a cup of coffee and made himself another cheese sandwich. That was plenty; between the Epsom Salts and the heat he didn’t feel like eating. After cleaning up his gear Les was sitting on the edge of his bed about an hour later, staring into space and still trying to get over Hank’s last statement, when an almighty thunderclap shook the old house. Les couldn’t remember ever hearing one that loud, it sounded like it was just above the roof. A few minutes later it started to rain. Just a few drops at first, all as big as pears, then the rest of them, till it was a roaring downpour. The rain thundered down on the roof and in about five minutes all the guttering had filled up and water was gushing over the downpipes in great shimmering silver cascades. It was quite beautiful and Les stood at the sliding glass door almost mesmerised as he watched it tumbling down. By now the humidity had climbed to what felt like 150 per cent. Norton’s T-shirt was soaked and sweat was stinging his eyes as it ran down his forehead, across his unshaven face and off his chin. Stuff this, thought Norton. He stripped down to his Speedos and ran outside underneath the nearest overflowing drainpipe.
    The fresh rainwater was cool and absolutely beautiful as it splattered over his head and body. Les even ran inside, got his soap and razor, and had a cold shave and a scrub up. There was an old wire chair just outside his back door. Les put that under a downpipe and sat on it, laughing like a loon as the rainwater splashed over him and formed rivulets in the backyard that turned into tiny streams and ran down to the swampy lagoon Les had noticed earlier. Now this is really living, cackled Norton, the rain seeming to wash away his cares as well as all the sweat. I can’t see them arresting you or shooting you in this state for having a free shower in