Why, that's just crazy-talk! I am not frightened by a bunch of water molecules

 Just three days ago, Mr. Slug was joyfully basking in the bright sun, wearing his tail sandal and a generous dollop of sunscreen on his sunkissed pate. When he slid out the door of Slug's Rest today, a very different weather pattern, in the form of a certain Mr. Rumblecloud, presented himself chest puffed out, in a threatening way. Mr. Slug said to the cloud, "My, you are looking very unstable and perhaps you are in need of some sort of counseling. I can give you the name of a doctor who can help you."  The cloud looked at him darkly and replied, "I may be unstable, but I have direction, which is more than I can say for you slugs. Just look at those crazy goo trails you guys make. Besides, someone has to wash the sidewalk from time to time!"  With this, Mr. Rumblecloud let out a torrent of hailstones and a crack of lightning lit the skies overhead! Mr. Slug retreated in terror as the hailstones turned to heavy rain! This madness sent Mr. Slug careening down the gutter and into the stormdrain, which, according to the painted sign next to it, leads directly to the sea! Mr. Slug tumbled and rolled his way through a long series of drainage tunnels which finally spit out the unfortunate mollusk through the big iron grates at the end of the drain in Nye Beach, Oregon.  Once he realized where he was, he promptly exited the shoreline and took a seat at the infamous tourist hangout, "The Sandbar," where the nice bartender took pity on the sand covered slug and served him a nice hot toddy to warm his mantle, free of charge.  He left the establishment feeling much better, but was still miles from home. He found some sea shells on the ground, used his slug goo to fuse them together and created some "beachy" looking artwork, which he put on consignment in the window of a local art gallery. The incredible artwork looked suitably trendy and sold almost instantly. He gave the art dealer his cut and used the remaining proceeds to pay for a limosine, a shiny black Lincoln Towncar. The driver asked the weary Mr. Slug where he wanted to go, and Mr. Slug said weakly, "There's no place like home."  What is the lesson learned here? Mr. Slug says, "If you go outside unprepared, that is, without your tailsock and dare to challenge an ominous cloud to a verbal swordfight, be ready for a lightning fast rebuttal and a good soaking, because YOU asked for it! They may look innocent enough, wearing that sly smile, but Rumbleclouds are NOT to be trusted!!!