Filtered

Mom was cooking but Jimmy had to know, why does it rain, and why does it snow? Well , my dear, responded mom, the rain falls down much like a bomb. I do not mean its density, nor its weight, but rather its creation, and ultimately its fate. You see, my dear, it falls after straining, through the clouds where above there's maiming. Angels and demons battle galore, above the clouds in infinite war. Their blood filters down and falls as rain, right into where leaves clog our drain. That is where it's from, and death it's bringing, even for Melvin, who's out in it singing.

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One thought on “Filtered”

  1. When my son was young, I gave him the truth. When he was older (and used to my sense of humor), I had fun with my answers. How kind of you to make a comic about us!
    One question: Is that blood dripping from the spatula? Good, because it dripped from mine, too.

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