[ WP ] Write the most elaborate , over-dramatic , and exciting story you can think of that all just turns out to be a set-up for a pun so horrible I 'll want to punch you

I sat with him for the first time not irritated by the wheezing blocked breaths I had put up with for the last thirty odd years. I had chosen to marry this man, and I hated him. Tonight, though, for the first time in so long, that was n't on the forefront of my mind. 
 
 My knitting also sat on my lap, a stitch dropped and ignored three rows ago. So unlike me. The clicking that used to bore through my Rudy's brain had stopped temporarily as a kind of cease-fire as we watched the world end in between our awful floral-print curtains, chosen by me because he would surely hate them. 
 
 God, I had used to love him, I found myself thinking as we sat there, unable to speak, to cry, as the weather tore the cul-de-sac to shreds around us. Our own shoddy roof tiles tore off. When we moved in he promised he would fix them, but he never had. The man I fell in love with truly meant it. Rudy now, the man filled with blind hate and disappointment, would never think of doing something that would make me happy. 
 
 When we met, I thought his name was Red, because that's what they all called him, the other firefighters. Named because of the times he'd emerge from buildings totally destroyed with a child or cat or grandmother slung over his wide, strong shoulders, red-faced and on the point of unconsciousness. Red saved the day. I fell in love with him. Not this bag of gas; this man who raised a leg to fart on his armchair, who muttered about my cooking as if I could n't hear, this man who would correct the weather man as we watched the news. For the life of me I ca n't think of anything more annoying than that. Are you an expert, dear, or is he? 
 
 `` It does n't look like a storm is coming,'' he scoffed, when the weatherman explained to us that the apocalypse, essentially, was coming to Britain. `` It just looks like rain.'' 
 
 `` Well that's that, then,'' I said, a little too hysterically. When, hours later, it arrived to tear us up, I finally snapped out of staring and picked up my handbag. 
 
 `` Where are you going?'' he asked. 
 
 `` To the shop,'' I said, with a fury I did n't think I could bear. `` It's only rain after all, right? Right? So come with me. Let's go for a walk. Or ca n't the great Red handle a pitter patter of rain?'' To my surprise he stood, put his hands on his hips, and flung open the door. 
 
 `` Yes!'' he yelled, his face becoming ruddy with mirrored displaced fury. The last straw. `` Out we go. Come on, dear. Come on. Let's go for a stroll like we used to.'' 
 
 `` Fine!'' I screamed over the howling winds. One step outside and my handbag was already lost to the gale. I suppressed a scream and walked a second step, arm in arm with the man I married and the man I hated. 
 
 Out of the wind and fog flew a tile from our own roof, shattering the back of his skull in a second and sending him to his knees and then to the ground. With a shriek, I kneeled beside him. `` No, Rudy. Oh, God, not like this. There are so many things I wanted to talk about before this happened, please, look at me. Talk to me. It's just rain. It's only raining. You were right. You were right, Rudy, please - I was wrong. Just rain.'' I was sobbing harder than I ever had in my daydreams of his demise. 
 
 He looked up at me, the colour already clouding over in his eyes. For a second the man I loved shone through, and then, `` Yes,'' he said. `` Rudolph the Red knows rain, dear.''
