when the rain had laughter

selected excerpts from a recent story i wrote:
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My first thought earlier was what if the rain had laughter? What if every drop of water that fell from the sky was giggling or guffawing, chuckling or chortling, hee-hawing or howling, snickering or snorting, tittering or tee-heeing, cachinnating or cackling? Then the clouds would be more like mouths and the sky would be more like a face and the sun and moon would be funny-looking moles than appear at different times on your face depending on what you ate for breakfast or lunch or dinner and fog or smoke or smog would be what happens when you don't shave for varying lengths of time - only if you're a guy, of course. Or a woman of ethnic origins which I won't say in case it makes me seems racy. I mean racist. Though being racist is racy nowadays, isn't it?...
...[W]hat if we held our friends over our heads like umbrellas when it rained laughter? When we needed them, of course. And they could do the same thing with us when they needed us. Laughter rains from everywhere and I hold my friend Anna above my head and she absorbs all the laughter and it makes her clothes all wet and hilarious and drips everywhere. But then, you see, the whole idea of an umbrella would be reversed, which is exactly my point. Let's say my friend James is sad because he's an attractive gay man but doesn't think he's an attractive gay man, much like a bush baby is happy because it thinks it's a cute little tree-climber when in fact it is quite hideous, or an author who is confused because he keeps having these thoughts that make sense but he thinks they don't and he just rambles on and on about his ideas and friends, like his friend James, who is sad because he doesn't think he's an attractive gay man, which he in fact is. So it starts to rain laughter outside and I say "James get your attractive gay person over here!" and he says "I'm not attractive. Though I am gay." which then proves my point that he needs to have buckets of laughter fall upon him from the heavens, so I lift him up and swing him over my head and it rains and rains and rains and I hear laughter everywhere - this time the laughter of two ridiculously flamboyant gay men sitting at a bar overusing the word "fabulous" - and James becomes soaked in it and he is then effectively wearing laughter, he showered in laughter, laughter going everywhere, and since laughter in inherently equal to happiness and happiness is inherently equal to thinking better of yourself than you do when you're unhappy, I can put James down when the brief storm is over (for laughter always comes in brief storms), confident that he now knows - or at least temporarily believes, rightly - that he is an attractive gay man. Gay in both senses, too! How punny. And let's say my friend Anna, who has large breasts and curly brown hair that she had straightened when she went off to college and pierced her belly button and lost her virginity is feeling rather gloomy because she hates everyone around her except her friends (which doesn't make much sense, because if she liked everyone else, wouldn't she call them friends, too?). So it begins to thunder chuckles and rain canals of cacchination and I whip her up over my head, which is rather easy, because she's rather thin, and, as proven earlier, she'll feel buckets better once the storm is gone.