The blathering idiot had heard the weather forecast before he went to bed. He set his alarm to rise before the sun.
The next day, he arose, dressed in his best clothes, and went outside to run up and down the streets until he came to the edge of town. His calves hurt. He was not used to running in his good boots, but if he didn’t hurry, he would not make it in time.
The blathering idiot ran into the country until he came to a field at the bottom of the east ridge. He crossed the fence and raced, as fast and as hard as he could, up the ridge until he reached the top. The sun was already peaking above the ridge top. In the town below, people would be rising, stretching, yawning, and going to their windows to see the sunrise. As it rose more, he approached it and then, without saying anything, tried kicking it like a ball.
The sun continued rising. The blathering idiot continued kicking at it. He kicked more and more and more until the sun was up over his head like a bright balloon on its way to the heavens. He couldn’t understand. He was sure he had heard correctly. The weather forecaster had said “It will be unseasonably warm with a slight breeze, and sunshine from dawn to dusk. It will be a great day for Christmas shopping and a beautiful day to boot.”
The blathering idiot’s calves sized up and he fell down.
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