Suddenly, he heard a high-pitched whistle. He looked down and saw a strange, orange-tinted fog rolling out of a cave.
The big clouds looked at him and shuddered. “Oh dear, no,” they huffed. “You’re far too bright. You’ll ruin our aesthetic for the landscape painters below. We can’t be friends.”
Once there was a little cloud named Dub. While most clouds in the sky liked to bunch together into big, fluffy blankets, Dub was a bit different—he was a bright, neon-purple mist.
“Hey!” the orange fog yelled. “I’m Zip. I’ve been hiding in this cave because the other fogs think I’m too loud and too orange.”
Dub’s purple mist began to glow. “They told me I was too bright and too chunky!”
The Cirrus clouds pulled away. “We are very high-fashion and very thin,” they sniffed. “You are much too... chunky. We can’t be friends.”