The sky sounds angry. War drums of thunder echo across the peaks. The dragon clouds growling and roaring. Brief and shocking flashes give the illusion of bright daylight against the encroaching evening.
There's a sudden rattle outside that draws attention to the window. It's raining like Africa. The sky is blacker than moonless midnight. A front row seat to the 'pocalypse.
As soon as it starts, the anger abates. The early evening sky lightens a little, a patch of clear can be seen to the west. Seems the 'pocalypse's been canceled. There's nine bean soup and Americana on the radio.