The Hail that Pounded like Jogging Cats

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Humor  |  House: Booksie Classic

Raymond Joel Jr. is experiencing a perfectly normal afternoon.

(Basic Plot ideas and part of the cover image generated at:



Ah, there you are!

Today I’d like to introduce you to someone very special:


Raymond Joel Jr. has always loved the sleepy town of Basin with its many bars and restaurants. It was a place where he felt… well, safe.

Were he to describe himself, he’d say that he is a daring, modest, cocoa drinker with a hang for violence. Physically he was about a head taller than the tallest person you know, with frizzy brown hair, light-blue eyes and a generally thin frame.

His friends, which there were plenty of, liked to call him an angry, arrogant magician. The reason for that involves a lion, a bottle of turpentine and a local therapist. It’s a story for another time, but this should give you a good idea of the kind of man Raymond is.


So, now that you know, let’s see what he’s doing right now!


Standing in the living room of his modest three-story house he looks out the window with glazed eyes, a mug with cocoa in hand and completely lost in thought. The weather reflects his mood perfectly. The hailstorm has been caressing the town all day and pounded against the window like jogging cats.

Suddenly he was snapped out of his trance as he noticed something, or rather someone in the distance, running towards his house.

It was Mark Thornton, one of his many friends. Mark was an articulate fellow and an avid gamer to boot, with shoulder-long hair that he’d colored blue today.

Rubbing his temples, Raymond tries to calm himself down. He was not in the mood for Mark and his… mannerisms today.


Putting his mug on a little shelf next to it, he quickly opens the front door and stands aside as a drenched Mark zooms past him and into the living room. Raymond closes the door with a sigh and turns around only to find himself face to face with his drenched friend.

Not being able to take a step back, Raymond finds himself staring directly into Mark’s glistening eyes. The following moment stretched itself out for what felt like seconds.


Eventually Mark whispers in a seductive tone “What’s the Password?”

Putting on the best glare he could muster, Mark quietly replies in a playfully stern tone “Mark, get out of my house.”



He does not know the password.

There is only one outcome to this dilemma, it seems.


Suddenly, Mark’s fist comes out of nowhere and aims squarely at Raymond’s face. In one fluid motion, Raymond dodges the fist, grabs his mug, and slams it down on Mark’s skull!

Mark lets out a sharp hiss and falls to the ground, his expression puzzled, yet harsh.

Mere moments later he lets out another agonizing scream as his body crumbles to dust.


Unfazed by this, Raymond goes back into the living-room, where he finds the mutilated corpse of the real Mark. With a sigh, he makes his way into the kitchen and prepares a new mug of cocoa.

A few minutes later he steps into the living room again only to find that the corpse of his friend is gone, as usual. He positions himself in front of the window again and soon his thoughts begin to wander once more, as his eyes begin to glaze.

The hailstorm outside still hasn’t let up, nor will it ever. These brief moments help him remember. This is his best shot. He will safe them from his stupid mistake.


Or will he…?


A few moments later he was snapped out of his trance as he noticed something, or rather someone in the distance, running towards his house.



Welcome to the end! (And belated thanks for 2K reads on my dumb stuff!)

Since I am a bit busy atm I figured I’d be fun to try one of those “random story generators” out. The result made no sense and was super short and… well, just posting something a generator spat out wouldn’t sit right with me. So, I rewrote it a bit, and here’s the result! Let me know what you think.

Until next time!

Submitted: March 30, 2021

© Copyright 2021 Arcturus. All rights reserved.

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