Today Furby stared onto Benevolent Street, contemplating what kind of sadistic godhead planned a universe with rain in it. Alas, the weather could not deter him from getting fratty indoors–the golden, carbonated brew providing enough sunshine to make his day bearable. As he stumbled toward the computer to check tomorrow’s weather, he saw that it would be 61° and mostly cloudly. “A-loh may-lah, may-bee doo-ay,” he chirped. That’s Furbish for ‘good clouds, maybe fun.’ He proceeded to pass out standing up, snoring his insufferably loud Furby snore.