"And now, with the weather, Martha Wash and Izora Armstead," the news anchor said, and the camera cut to the two women in front of the green screen.
"Hi, hi. We're your weather girls. Ah-huh," Wash said. "And have we got news for you. You better listen. Get ready, all you lonely girls. And leave those umbrellas at home. Alright."
The anchor stopped shuffling his papers, mid-shuffle, and looked intrigued. I think I did bring my custom umbrella today, he thought to himself. But if the weather girls say I don't need my promotional umbrella, then who am I to argue?
The producer, though, he was concerned. "Wash, Armstead, get back on script," he barked into his mic, which went straight to their earpieces. They ignored him. He slammed down his cup of coffee, and tugged at his hair. He had begged those women to keep their crazy prophecy to themselves. But clearly they had other plans. This was not good, not good at all.
And then the two women started to sing. "Humidity's rising. Barometer's getting low. According to all sources, the street's the place to go."
The producer popped a square of nicotine gum. "I picked the wrong week to stop smoking," he said to no one in particular.
The anchor put his chin in his hand, rapt. The street, they say? But should I bring my customized umbrella, or not? I can't remember, he thought to himself. Maybe they'll tell me again.
"'Cause tonight for the first time, just about half-past 10," Wash wailed. "For the first time in history, it's gonna start raining men."
The anchor sat up in his chair, his eyes bugging out, then grabbed his promotional golf umbrella and held it tightly to his chest. "Whaaaaaat?" he gasped. "Men? It's gonna start raining MEN?! It's gonna be a bloodbath out there."
The phone next to the producer started to ring. The network was calling. No doubt they were worried about a public panic. They'd warned him not to let Wash and Armstead on air tonight. He'd toed the line and forbidden them to say anything about this particular weather system. But maybe there was a small part of him that thought they were right. So let the phone ring, and kept the cameras rolling.
"I'm gonna go out, I'm gonna let myself get, absolutely soaking wet," Wash sang. "It's raining men."
These women, the anchor thought, they're so brave! They're gonna go out and let themselves get absolutely soaking wet. Wet with blood, probably. Because grown men were going to fall from the sky. Thank goodness the station had sprung for customized umbrellas and promotional golf umbrellas from Pinnacle Promotions. These umbrellas, which were printed with the station's logo, were great giveaways and did so much to market the station and its brand. Now they might be the thing that saved them all.
And then the producer heard it. The first loud thud on the building's roof. And then the thuds came louder and faster. Wash and Armstead