The Weathermen part one

[happy_never_after]

I'd spent most of my college years learning about who I was. I'd spent my childhood learning what I wasn't. It wasn't until August 23, 2008 when I worked as an intern meteorologist at Channel Six that I understood why I was put here.

I was a grunt, a go-fer, one of those nondescript interns who gets coffee. I was really a meteorologist, at least that's what my diploma from Western said. I took this job as a way inside. It was never in me to be Mr. On-Camera-Weatherman. That's not what I wanted. Behind the scenes, that was me. 

The Channel six newsroom buzzed that particular night. I walked in with a tray of Starbuck's coffee. The camera crew was ready. Everyone waited to see how the new meteorologist would do behind bright lights. I'd been so busy I never got a good look at the new guy. From what I saw, he was one of the typical pretty boys: dark hair, blues eyes, handsome, chiseled features. Almost a photocopy of his predecessor, Stuart Johnson. This man's name had more panache: Jonathon Twist or Jack Twist, as he'd asked to be called. 

"You should get along with this character, Del Mar," Cal smirked. "He wrote his religion down on the application as Pastafarian."

"He's not my type," I said, but as Twist turned around to clip on his mic I knew he was.

"Can't fool me," Cal said. "I know that look."

"Pastafarian, you say?"

"Yeah, 'may he reach out and touch you with his tasty tentacles'," Cal laughed, then socked me in the shoulder. "Here he comes. I'll introduce you."

My hands started to sweat around my Starbucks. I took the initiative as Twist stepped in front me and spilled my coffee on his shoes. 

"Ah, meteorologist Ernest, er- Ennis, DelMar."

He raised his eyebrow at me, looked down at his feet then laughed.

"Nice to meet you-- Ennis."

One touch. That was all it took. One touch. 

"So, you belong to the Church of the Flying Spaghetti Monster too?" I blurted out.

I was different. My parents told me that. I accepted my difference with grim realism.  One look told me this man was different too-- yes, this man knew the noodly truth. 

And I aimed to share my noodle with him. Soon.