In the sparkly-spinny Whirligig Galaxy, where stars twinkled like giggling fireflies and planets wobbled like jelly on a plate, there lived a boy named Benjamin. His home was a cozy crater on the planet Bounce-7, where the ground was always springy—boing, boing!—like jumping on a trampoline made of marshmallows. The air smelled of warm cinnamon toast, and the distant hum of space whales singing lullabies filled the night.

Benjamin loved exploring, but there was one thing that made his toes curl tighter than a space-sock full of slime: thunderstorms. Not the gentle Earth-rain kind—oh no. On Bounce-7, storms were spectacular. Lightning crackled in colors Benjamin couldn’t even name—purple like grape soda, green like alien sneezes—and thunder rumbled so loud it shook the clouds like a giant shaking a snow globe. BOOMITY-BOOM! The sound made his ears wiggle and his hair stand up straighter than a porcupine’s quills.

One evening, as Benjamin munched on a cloudberry sandwich (crunchy on the outside, squishy like a pillow on the inside), his best friend—a three-eyed, six-legged critter named Zizzle—zoomed into the crater. Zizzle’s fur was softer than a kitten’s belly, and he smelled like bubblegum and freshly sharpened pencils. "Benjamin!" Zizzle squeaked, his middle eye blinking excitedly. "The Great Storm Festival starts tonight! Everyone’s going to dance in the rain and catch lightning in jars!"

Benjamin’s stomach did a flip-flop. "But—but storms are scary," he said, his voice wobbling like a bowl of jelly. "What if the thunder eats me? Or the lightning turns me into a toasted marshmallow?"

Zizzle giggled, his six legs doing a little tap-dance. "Thunder doesn’t eat people, silly! It’s just the clouds playing tag. And lightning? It’s just space sparkles!" He held out a tiny jar. "Here. Catch some with me. If you’re patient, you’ll see—it’s fun!"

Benjamin gulped. The sky was already turning the color of bruised bananas, and the wind smelled like wet socks and adventure. Whoosh! A gust nearly blew his sandwich into orbit. He took a deep breath—sniff, sniff—and grabbed Zizzle’s paw. "Okay. But if I get zapped, I’m blaming you."

Out they went, hopping over puddles that splashed like liquid silver. The first raindrop hit Benjamin’s nose—plop!—and tickled like a feather. Then another. And another. Soon, he was laughing as the rain pattered on his head like tiny drummers. Tap-tap-tappy! Zizzle spun in circles, his fur sticking up in all directions, looking like a fuzzy tornado. "Wheee!" he shouted. "Try it, Benjamin!"

So Benjamin did. He jumped—boing!—and landed in a puddle with a splosh! Mud splattered his knees, but he didn’t care. It felt like warm chocolate pudding. Then came the lightning. A zigzag of pink streaked across the sky—zap!—and Zizzle held up his jar. "Quick!" he yelled. Benjamin reached out, and—ping!—a tiny spark landed in the jar, glowing like a firefly. "I did it!" he cheered, his heart pounding like a drum.

Then the thunder rolled. GRRRRUMBLE-BOOM! Benjamin’s knees knocked together, but Zizzle just grinned. "Listen," he said. "It’s not angry. It’s just… telling a story." So Benjamin closed his eyes and listened. The thunder rumbled again, and this time, it sounded like a giant’s belly laugh. Ha-ha-HOOOM! He giggled. "It is funny!"

By the time the storm fizzled out, Benjamin’s clothes were soggy, his hair was a wild mess, and his cheeks hurt from smiling. The air smelled like rain-kissed grass and victory. Zizzle handed him the jar with the lightning spark. "See?" he said. "Sometimes the things that seem scary are just waiting for you to understand them."

Benjamin hugged his friend, his heart as light as a balloon. "Next time, I’ll be first in line for the storm dance!" And as the stars twinkled above, he knew—with a little patience, even the loudest, brightest, wiggliest things could turn into something wonderful.

The end.