mark-mardon

The Weather Wizard

Chapter Five

If you asked me what I expected to be doing last night I would not tell you I would be at a cemetery. Nope. Maybe I’d watch Bob’s Burgers. Maybe I’d whip Dante and Caitlin at Settlers of Catan again. Oh, one time I didn’t speak with Caitlin for a day because she was hoarding sheep. Who hoards sheep?! But instead of a possibility for any funness at all, I dodged gravestones on my way to a dead felon meta-human’s grave.

So when Mark Mardon aka the Weather Wizard asked me for a favor, I knew it was gonna be bad. I tried to shrug him off and distract him with his pad thai but he just asked me again louder. “Hey, little one,” he said. Mhmm, yeah I’m listening, please insult me then ask me for help. Works every time. “I need you to leave something on my brother’s grave.“

Hell no. Even if I wanted to help WW, cemeteries are terrifying and there are board games that need my attention. But when WW gave me his sob story about it being his younger brother’s birthday and how he needed to honor him, I immediately thought of Dante and how I would feel if he died. WW could tell I was cracking so then he hit me with the knockout punch. "You do this for me and I’ll let you watch whatever nerd movie you want next movie night.” That was it - storm maker had me. There would be so many choices! All the possibilities!

The plan was simple. Buy a bottle of nice bourbon, drink half, and then leave the other half on Clyde Mardon’s grave. Steps one and two worked out fine. I bought a bottle of Rebel Yell- seemed appropriately named - and chugged. AND chugged. Real burn your throat, mute your worries, and leave you dancing in the buff type of stuff. Next thing I know, I’m more than a bit tipsy and stumbling through the cemetery with a baseball bat ready for zombies or ghouls. Then the freaking rain starts. It was a sign! Lil WW was controlling the weather from the other side. I swear I even heard my name on the wind "CISCO… Your days are over.” I swung the bat like Babe Ruth! In retrospect what was a bat going to do against a disembodied weather ghost? The storm picked up, the rain was freezing and lashing against me. I could barely see my hand in front of my face.

By sheer luck, I found Clyde’s tombstone. I yelled “Yo Clyde, ease up, your brother sent me.” Nothing. “Even though you were evil and had a wicked God complex - your brother wanted you to have a drink on your birthday!” There was a long pause - I was half expecting Clyde to rise from the dead. And then the storm died down. I shit you not. Maybe Mom is right to believe in spirits and all that scary stuff but I didn’t wait to find out. No sir, I left the bourbon and hoofed it out of there. Only one thought on my mind - WW freaking owes me.

Till next time, don’t go walking in a graveyard where meta-humans are buried. 

Cisco, out (Almost for good that time)!