It Was A Sunny Night

Above latitude 66, the Sun is in the sky from shortly before the summer solstice until shortly after the summer solstice. You’d think He’d get tired of hanging out up there for so long, wouldn’t you? But then again, He more than makes up for it in the winter, when from shortly before until shortly after the winter solstice, He never climbs above the horizon.

The Stars once organized a protest, claiming that by staying in the sky for a month at a time, He wasn’t giving them equal time. No wishes were made, no stargazing could be accomplished, and lovers weren’t particularly romantic without their nightly dose of soft silvery light. They tried to get the Moon to back their play, but frankly, She was exhausted and was more than willing to sleep in, knowing that come winter, the Stars would be bitching about how they never got a break. Bloody divas.

The Clouds, though, they definitely were behind the Stars gambit. They were tired of the Sun always burning them away, sending them back home with their brand-new clothes in tatters. They did not appreciate being made to look like a bunch of homeless tatterdemalions with no one to look after them. So they sent out their heavy hitters, the Cumulonimbus, with their towers that stretched for hundreds of vertical miles. They swarmed over the sky, turning the pristine blue of the Heavenly Vault into an angry, swirling witch’s brew of black and green. Lightning flashed in their bellies and they growled in thunderous rage – lightning was hot, after all, and gave them horrible upset stomachs.

The Sun laughed with good-natured humor and immediately burned through the Cumulonimbus’s towers and turned their witch’s brew into a sloe gin fizz. “Silly clouds,” he said smiling. “You should know better than to try and cover me during my reign. This is summertime! This is my time! Wait a few weeks, and then I’ll gladly share the sky with you.”

The Clouds muttered darkly and sent a few petulant lightning strikes to the ground as they slunk off shamefacedly for more southerly climes, finally settling in Mississippi River Valley and taking out their impotent rage on the unfortunate people who built their lives along the Old Man’s banks. After this fiasco, the Stars vowed then and there to never work with the Clouds again as clearly, they didn’t have what it took to be serious contenders in the Weather Game.

Behind the Stars’ backs, the Sun and Moon exchanged high fives. Once again, they’d exerted their dominance over the Heavenly Vault and put the bloody divas in their place.