That’s what he liked – short, concise, to-the-point.
but enough to cause him to hurl a black obscenity into the water-drenched air surrounding him.
But then a cloud ... And then, of course, it had started to rain.
mercilessly
"I know never to trust you again, you stupid ball of plasm--"
... last syllable of his pet name, "Saturday is our day! ..."