Snoopy eat your heart out

It was not raining outside but inside Jean-Philippe's heart was a monsoon, if one were to substitute blood for rainwater and gastro-intestinal gas, most assuredly due to the over-consumption of turnips at the dinner table, for gale-force winds. His entire body shook & trembled as though it were an obese man's stomach that had just been slapped, hard, by a 23 lb. large-mouth bass, or maybe even a rainbow trout though most certainly a fresh-water fish rather than one native to salt or brackish waters. There were tiny thunderclaps of pain inside Jean-Philippe, complete with tiny lightning-like electrical shocks, though the shocks came first and the thunder second because light travels faster than sound, idiot. His stomach wrenched in anguish like a plumber trying to tighten a heavy-duty, all-brass 1 ½" slip-joint nut coated in a layer of spooge. "Sacré Dieu!" he whined shrilly with a most punch-in-the-face-worthy expression. "J'ai besoin un café au lait mais n'il ya pas un Starbucks ici". Then a man shot and killed him in a hailstorm of bullets which is not to be confused with a hailstorm of golfball-sized ice aggregates which would surely dent the roof of your car. Better park in the garage tonight.
Fin.