It was 2:00 PM. The sun was shining. It was a beautiful day.
Stan was walking from the Faculty of Social Sciences to the hostel. He was wearing his favorite outfit: a crisp, white long-sleeved shirt and blue jeans. He looked like the CEO of a company that didn't exist yet.
He was walking with "The Strut." Left foot, right foot, chin up. He was imagining that slow-motion music was playing in the background.
Then, the Nigerian weather happened.
In seconds, the blue sky turned black. The wind started blowing dust into people's eyes. A thunderclap shook the ground. BOOM.
Then, the heavens opened.
It didn't sprinkle. It poured. It was an aggressive rain. Heavy, cold drops that felt like stones.
Pandemonium broke out on campus.
"Jesus!" someone screamed.
"My laptop!" another guy shouted, hugging his bag.
Students were sprinting. Girls were running with books over their heads. Guys were jumping over puddles like Olympic hurdlers. Everyone was scrambling for the nearest canopy or tree.
Tobi, Stan's roommate, ran past him. Tobi was running for his life. He had a black plastic bag tied over his head. He looked like a frightened criminal.
"Stan!" Tobi screamed as he ran past. "Run! Are you mad? Your white shirt! It will see-through!"
Stan stopped.
He looked at the chaos. He looked at the people running like ants.
Stan made a decision.
"Kings do not run," Stan whispered to the thunder. "Running implies fear. I am not afraid of water. I am 70% water."
Stan continued to walk.
He did not speed up. He kept his exact same pace.
The rain hammered him. His nice white shirt stuck to his skin. His hair, which was perfectly styled, was now flattened against his forehead. His shoes were making a squish-squash sound.
But Stan didn't hunch his shoulders. He didn't shiver. He walked with his chest out, staring straight ahead. He acted like the rain was a paid actor in his movie.
He approached the Bus Stop shed. It was packed. About twenty girls were huddled there, trying to stay dry. They were bored and cold.
Then they saw him.
A lone figure walking slowly in the middle of the storm. He wasn't running. He wasn't crying. He looked... unbothered.
Stan reached the bus stop. He didn't go under the shelter. He stopped right in front of it, standing in the pouring rain.
The girls stopped talking. They stared at him. Was he crazy? Was he heartbroken?
Stan looked at the group of girls. He wiped the water from his face slowly, pushing his hair back. It looked like a scene from a music video.
He locked eyes with the prettiest girl in the front. Her name was Simi.
"Aren't you cold?" Simi shouted over the noise of the rain. "Come inside!"
Stan smiled. Water dripped from his nose.
"The sky is crying," Stan shouted back, his voice deep and dramatic.
"Why?" Simi asked, confused.
"Because it knows it can't dampen my shine," Stan said.
The girls screamed with laughter. It was cheesy. It was ridiculous. But because Stan was standing in a storm to say it, it was legendary.
"You are crazy!" Simi laughed, blushing.
"I'm not crazy," Stan said, taking a step closer, still in the rain. "I'm just aquatic. I'm Aquaman's cousin... Stan-quaman."
Simi laughed so hard she dropped her purse.
"Here," Stan said.
He finally stepped under the shelter. He was dripping wet. A puddle formed around his feet immediately.
"You're soaked," Simi said, looking at his wet shirt.
"It's a tactical wash," Stan lied. "I wanted to test the fabric quality."
He took out his phone. Amazingly, he had kept it dry in his pocket.
"I have to go," Stan said. "My private jet (his legs) is waiting. But before I swim away..."
He handed his phone to Simi.
"Put your number. In case I drown."
Simi typed it in fast. "Please go and dry off, Stan-quaman."
"I will," Stan said.
He stepped back out into the rain. He walked away slowly. He didn't look back.
The Reality:
Five minutes later, Stan burst into his hostel room. He was shaking violently. His teeth were chattering. Clack-clack-clack.
"T-T-Tobi," Stan stuttered, grabbing a towel. "I am f-f-freezing."
Tobi looked at him from the top bunk. "I told you to run! You looked like a wet chicken out there."
Stan wrapped the blanket around himself. He sat on the bed, shivering, looking like a burrito.
He looked at his phone. A text from Simi: Stay warm, Fish Man. x
Stan smirked through the shivering.
"Tobi," Stan whispered. "You have dry clothes. But I have the victory."
Mission Status: Waterproof.