A Little Rain   
      
   By Loki925 (M/g, inc, con)   
      
   This story is a work of pure fiction and does not resemble anyone or   
   anything in reality, whatever that may be.   
      
   There is an old saying, "Into each life a little rain must fall." I   
   always thought that meant you would have good days and bad, but now I   
   know it has nothing to do with good days and bad.   
      
   Once upon a time there was this guy, and that guy was me. I went to war.   
   I came back in one piece. I went to college. It was there that I met the   
   woman of my dreams. Her name was Mary Christopher. She claimed to be 5'   
   tall, but she was barely 4' 10", "and one half", as she would always   
   say. She had small breasts, barely enough to poke out of a tight shirt,   
   but she had the sexiest, tightest little butt. Yep you guessed it; I   
   love a nice, tight little butt.   
      
   Anyway we hit it off right away. We fucked like bunnies all through   
   college. When we finished college, we lived together. Until one month   
   she goofed up taking her birth control pills and guess what, she got   
   pregnant. Then the shit really hit the fan. She told me she wanted an   
   abortion. We fought, we argued, finally I gave up.   
      
   We did not have the $600 it would cost for the procedure. I could not   
   ask my parents. They would want to know what it was for, and there was   
   no way I could tell two devout Catholics it was for an abortion. So we   
   asked her parents.   
      
   When her dad signed the check Mary asked me, "Do you love me?"   
      
   I said, "You know I do."   
      
   She said, "Then say it."   
      
   I said, "I love you, forever and a day."   
      
   She tore up the check and said, "Let's go home."   
      
   I was more than shocked. Looking back on it now, I do not know what I   
   thought.   
      
   We went back to our small apartment. It was there that Mary told me why   
   she wanted the abortion. She told me she was seduced at just thirteen.   
   She said she thought the older guy loved her, but all he wanted was her   
   cunt. She got pregnant and he disappeared. It was shortly before women   
   could get abortions. She had to give up the baby. I had to agree. There   
   was no way I could see a fourteen-year-old being a mother. She cried. I   
   cried.   
      
   Two years later we got married. My little son Mike was my best man. He   
   looked angelic in his small tuxedo. We purchased a house. Two years   
   later my daughter was born. We named her Carla.   
      
   In all that time, we still fucked like bunnies. It never got old and we   
   never grew tired of it.   
      
   Now get ready, here comes the rain part.   
      
   One day we were on an Interstate on our way to the mountains for our   
   vacation. Carla was just nine and Mike was thirteen.   
      
   Then out of nowhere there was this tractor-trailer truck bearing down on   
   me. I had but a second to find a way out, but I knew I did not have a   
   chance.   
      
   CRASH!   
      
   I still have nightmares about it, mixed with my time at war.   
      
   One day some time later I woke up. I had bandages everywhere. Needles   
   and tubes hung from my arm, another tube was stuck down my throat, and   
   there was this incessant "Beep! Beep! Beep!"   
      
   Then some woman dressed in white said, "Good afternoon. How do you feel?"   
      
   My first thought was, "I feel like shit," but that's not what I tried to   
   say. I said in a tube blocked, low hoarse voice, "My wife, my kids?"   
      
   "We will talk about that later." she answered.   
      
   I did not get the chance to respond. Out I went again. Five days later,   
   they removed my tube and most of my IVs. Each and every one of those   
   five lousy, stinking days I asked and asked, but they would never answer   
   me about my wife and kids.   
      
   Two days later I was sure I was the only one left. But when they told me   
   my wife and son were both dead and my daughter was still in intensive   
   care, I still cried like a baby.   
      
   I guess it was hope that kept me from doing it, crying, in the first   
   place. I did not know what to think, but I knew this was not just rain.   
   It was a shit storm that destroyed half of my family and threatened to   
   take one more.   
      
   It took another ten days before I could get out of bed and finally see   
   my daughter. More "OH SHIT!" She looked more dead than alive. But they   
   told me she still had a chance; her brain was still alive.   
      
   I was pissed. I said, "You call that ALIVE? THEN WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU   
   CALL DEAD?"   
      
   In went the needle and out I went. Tests and more tests. My brain was   
   screwed. Chemical imbalance they called it. They gave me this pill and   
   that pill, and more pills to prevent seizures.   
      
   Finally I was so mellow I could not harm a fly. They let me see my   
   daughter again. I was so full of chemicals, I could not even cry.   
      
   One month later I was released from the hospital. I went to my empty   
   house. I found no lights, no water or gas, and a ton of bills up my ass,   
   and no way to pay them.   
      
   This is where I almost fucked it all up. I stopped taking my pills. I   
   got the .45 I snuck back from the war. I went to the hospital and   
   demanded my daughter's release.   
      
   To this day I don't even remember doing it. Well I was arrested, but   
   they let me off with a slap on my wrist. It was the judge who did it. I   
   guess he saw I was not really the sort of guy who went around with a   
   .45. It was just my grief that made me act that way.   
      
   I took a second loan out on my house with a year of deferred payments   
   and I paid all my bills. Then I got this letter offering me a settlement   
   for the accident. I called the number in the letter and said, "No   
   thanks." It was the pills, you see.   
      
   I got a lawyer. I found out they were supposed to be paying my bills.   
   The truck driver was drunk. He survived the crash without a scratch. I   
   hope he did well in jail. He was sentenced to six to twelve years for   
   vehicular homicide. I'm a tad ahead of the story here.   
      
   It took two more months before my daughter woke up. Then it was this   
   operation, that operation, this reconstruction. One whole year of the   
   crap and still she would never walk.   
      
   I got a big pile of money, enough for us to live in comfort the rest of   
   our days. But what is money or comfort, compared to a life?   
      
   My daughter was now ten and she needed help with everything, but I did   
   not mind. In fact it gave me a reason to go on.   
      
   Then one day things got strange. I was changing my daughter's diaper. It   
   was when I was cleaning her vagina that it happened. Damn those baby   
   wipes. As I wiped her she moaned. It sent an electric shock to my hand   
   and I pulled it back. She looked at me. I looked at her.   
      
   It was Carla who spoke first. "Daddy, I felt something."   
      
   "No shit," I thought. I was terrified. I had turned my daughter on by   
   just wiping her, as I had done at least a thousand times before.   
      
   What the hell was I to do now? Did we have enough money for a caretaker?   
      
   "Daddy," my daughter said, "Was that like, sex?"   
      
   I cursed myself because of those damned books and talks that her mom and   
   I had given Carla. Each year a little more information. We thought it   
   was the right thing to do.   
      
      
   [continued in next message]   
      
   --- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05   
    * Origin: you cannot sedate... all the things you hate (1:229/2)