Wednesday December 17th, 2014

The exercise:

Write about: the snowman.

I don't think I'll be doing a proper countdown to Christmas like I have in previous years, but the prompts will still likely have a seasonal flavour for the next week. It's just that time of year.

Had Max with me in town this morning to run a few errands. I decided to drop by the hair salon to see if our hairstylist had an opening that we could conveniently slot into. As it happened, right then and there happened to work perfectly.

I went first while Max entertained himself (and me... and the hairstylist) by playing with the Christmas decorations in the window and commenting on passersby. He had to be coaxed onto my lap for his turn, but we got him there eventually.

Now I just need to shave and I might actually look presentable before the relatives start arriving.


Three fat snowmen are lurking
In the front yard;
Every day and every night,
They're standing guard.

Just one snowman is breathing,
So which could it be?
The secret to our safety...
It changes nightly.


Greg said...

It sounds like it's getting slightly easier to get Max to accept a haircut then! Well done, and just about at the right time too. Both of you will be looking presentable to the relatives in time for Christmas :-D
That's quite a clever poem, with a neat little twist in the ending. I wonder what that breathing snowman is capable of...?

The snowman
When Santa looked out of the window he first noticed that his breath was misting the spun-sugar that replaced the glass panes, and secondly that the elves had caught a snowman. They were running around the spooky forest chasing it, but the thing was hobbled by a string of flashing christmas lights and kept falling over. Then they'd run up and steal its coal eyes or its carrot nose and run away again giggling, dropping their prizes and forcing the snowman to hunt for them.
"What's that noise, dear?"
"A snowman. The elves have caught another." Santa heaved a sigh.
"Oh, really? They never used to do that at the North pole." Santa's boyfriend busied himself at the stove.
"That's because there weren't any snowmen at the North pole," said Santa. "I told you that moving into the Witch's cottage was a bad idea. We still haven't got rid of the smell of cooking children from the oven."
His boyfriend looked thoughtful. "There are definitely issues," he said slowly, getting a kettle of water on to boil. "But it's much easier for your job. We've got adequate supply chains here, and it's closer for deliveries."
"I know," said Santa and sighed again. An icy scream floated through an open window. "I think it's your turn to go and put the snowman out of its misery."
His boyfriend picked up the snow-shovel, cinched his dressing-gown belt about his waist, and set off outside.

Marc said...

Greg - yeah, if only I'd managed to shave as well. Perhaps tomorrow.

You wouldn't want to know what that snowman can do with a carrot. Actually, you probably do...

When I first read this I thought you might put together a continuing story for us. While I'm slightly disappointed to see that didn't happen, I still appreciate this as a stand alone piece!

Deeply entertained, by both the elves interaction with the snowman and the casual back and forth between Santa and his partner :)