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This evening is full of puffs, thunder plus deluge. She is lost in the
strips of the speechbubbly version of Blustering Heights. This sudden
thunderbolt triggers the conversion of the enduring deluge into this
pouring cloudburst, exhibiting distinct or blurry lightning, besides
the thunder ostensibly flogging the treetops in the greying eve.
Through the sides of her porthole seep in thin strings of droplets
huffed in by the butts the puffs pound on the sudden flooding of this
cloudburst undesired by either people or turf, nor desiring the
thunder giving you childish shudders, or these puffs close to choking
the eve’s gong.