It’s been a nasty winter, as far as snow goes, here in our little metropolis. Until yesterday, we didn’t have any whatsoever, save for a dusting in October, resulting in the latest Opening Day for the local ski area in its 69-year history*. Fortunately, the Weather Bunny rebooted the computer or whatever it is that she does at the
Ok, 4"-6” of incredibly wet, slushy cement on the ground. But still … it was snow, and that’s all that matters. Further, it being so wet made it ideal for packing, and I, having not lost my child-like innocence and joyful appreciation of the simple pleasures in life (unlike my cynical and jaded friends), decided it was a perfect occasion to build a snowman. (After, of course, throwing back a couple of shots of rye to temporarily mask the pain of knowing that I’m going nowhere, stuck in a dead-end job, and that I’m helpless to change the course of my sorry-ass life, if you can even call it that.)
So after donning boots and gloves, the husky-wannabe and I went outside and began our project. O, how the snow packed so perfectly! “Indy!” I cried with glee. “This will be the best, most colossal, awesomest, ginormousiest snowman ever! People will drive for miles to marvel at its beauty, its enormity, its Christ-like perfection!” And so I rolled and rolled, for what seemed like hours, until I finally felt that I had truly attained my goal:
Above: I knew I’d pay a price for that half-assed job of leaf raking last fall. Whatever.
I stood watching it, beaming with pride, for several minutes, then decided it was time to
Never did I imagine what horrors this world can hold, and what evil dwells in the hearts of some.
It was fairly dark when I got home, but not such that I couldn’t see where Elwood P. Dowd once stood. “Odd,” I thought. “I would have expected a small pile of his remnants to lay where once he stood so proudly.” As I grew closer, I gasped in horror as I realized that there were footprints other than mine surrounding the space he once occupied. A space now flattened, stomped with such apparent cruelty that even the most fastidious forensic investigators would have been hard-pressed to confirm even the existence of Elwood P. Dowd.
After a brief moment of silence and a tearful goodbye, I walked around the corner to the front door, and was shocked to find this:
Who could have done this? What sort of blackened souls walk among us that can commit such heinous acts? My god ... where was his other eye? “NOOOOOOOoooo …” I wailed into the wet night. “WHOEVER YOU ARE … WHATEVER YOU ARE … I WILL FIND YOU … I WILL HUNT YOU DOWN … ELWOOD P. DOWD WILL BE AVENGED!” Slowly, I walked inside, poured myself a warm brandy, and began to plot my revenge.
The forecast for Sunday is snow. Justice will be served.
* hehehe 69 ...