The Clouds

Who or what is hiding in the clouds? Like single cell slime mold, these things creep mindlessly yet with some slow purpose around the dome of heaven -- doing what, exactly? Oh sure, we're told they provide rain and give painters something to occupy their time -- but has anyone really gone into the matter? Or gone into the clouds, really. 
My old Norwegian grandmother told me when I was a boy that if you make a wish on a white cloud it will come true, and if you wish harm to an enemy on a black cloud that will also come true. She was gaga from the get-go, I'm thinking -- but it was a powerful lesson to me that there is something askew with the lurking clouds above. When those old sci-fi movies urged us to "Watch the Skies" I don't think they meant look out for space ships -- I think they were warning us to keep a weather eye (no pun intended) on the clouds.
Have you ever noticed that most bad things happen on cloudy days? Do you ever lose your car keys on a bright sunny day? Or go to the dentist when the sun is blazing away? Clouds get in the way of our happiness and satisfaction. Just think of the happiest day of your life and see if you can remember a single cloud in the sky. Not likely, is it? 
I know this may sound crazy, but please hear me out:  My theory is that clouds are not endemic to planet Earth. They are an invasive species from outer space. They colonized our planet some hundreds of millions of years ago -- and that was the reason for the mass extinction of the dinosaurs, not some crummy asteroid bouncing off a continent. Think about it: Those big lizards were all cold blooded and needed lots of sunshine to keep warm enough to move around. So the sun must have been shining all day without hindrance. Then one fine day a bunch of fluffy gray things appear in the sky, cutting off the sunshine, and in a matter of months T Rex and Company are in the boneyard. And our scientists, who can run a Hadron Collider without turning a hair, still have no basic understanding of just what clouds are, do they? But I know what they are: Clouds are alien parasites, meaning our planet no good.

Now I wouldn't want you to think I came up with this working hypothesis simply out of thin air. I've had an Experience -- one that cannot be easily explained away, not unless you're prepared to accept the fact that clouds are a malign factor in our biosphere.

But it comes to me, of a sudden, that perhaps I shouldn't be telling you any of this. You have the look of a cloudie -- one of those misty appeasers who want to lull us into a false sense of security. Perhaps you're the kind that likes to look up at the predatory billows and remark how majestic they are, or how this one looks like a dog and that one looks like the Tower of London. You're teaching your children to worship Altocumulus and Nimbostratus. Reporting back to the Head Mist any dissent or doubt that you hear. It's likely, now that I come to think of it, that you could very well be a Cloud Quisling -- egging me on with your moon-faced smile to give up all my secrets. Perhaps you plan to have me struck down by a five pound piece of hail, or sucked up into a whirlwind and never seen again.
Well, my fractus friend, we can't let that happen, now, can we? 
You've developed a nervous tic in your left eye, cloud hugger. You seem strangely upset, keen to leave my presence. I don't think you're too friendly anymore. Let's you and I step outside for a breath of fresh air, shall we? Maybe check for a mackerel sky, hmmm? Oh look, a precipice. I wonder how that got there. Oopsy-daisy . . . darn, I guess I'll never get to tell you about my Experience. 

Inspired by a news article by @AlexHortonTX