Smokey the Snowman

It doesn’t snow only on Christmas Day. Depending on how much Jesus loves you, it may not even snow at all on Christmas. But that doesn’t mean you’re out of luck. Odds are it will snow at some point during the winter months (unless Jesus really hates your fucking guts). While it’s true that Christmas Snow is the whitest, purest, and most-magical snow of the year, you can find a bit of somewhat inferior magic in January and February snow. Other months, you’re out of luck. Sorry. That’s just the way it is.

So it came to be that some town somewhere found itself in the middle of a mid-January blizzard. Wreaking havoc and causing eight confirmed fatalities

the snowfall was not greeted with the laughter of children and creepy smiles of overly-friendly adults. No, nobody welcomed the January snow. Nobody except for little Eddie Ferguson.

At ten-years-old, little Eddie maybe wasn’t so little for his age. Already sporting a beard that Grizzly Adams would call “too bushy”, Eddie had hit puberty, and the smokes, early. He finished his cup of coffee, shut down farmsex.com, and donned his warmest denim jacket. He stopped at the coffee table on his way out the door, grabbed a lighter and half a deck of Lucky Strikes and opened the door.

The blast of cold air numbed his face, but not as much as it would have without the full beard. Eddie closed the door behind him and let his little legs carry him around to the back of the house, by the garage. He tapped a cigarette out of the softpack and placed it between his chapped lips. He flicked the Bic and brought the lighter up to his face, shielding the precious flame from the biting wind. Touching the fire to the tip of the Lucky, he inhaled

deeply, drawing the sweet toxins into his still-developing lungs.

Little Eddie exhaled, the considerable amount of smoke made even more impressive with the addition of his breath being released into the cold air. The sight made Little Eddie laugh, but the laugh quickly turned into a hacking cough, ending with Little Eddie spitting out a superball-sized chunk of black lung cheese. “I’ll have to switch over to filters pretty soon,” Little Eddie thought grimly.

Eddie glanced at the mucusy glob of black goo that had landed in a patch of dirty, gritty snow. The glob seemed to have a life of its own as it rolled

through the snow, creating a dirty white ball. Little Eddie cleared his throat and coughed up a smaller hunk of bile, he rolled it into a second ball and placed it atop the first.

Little Eddie gathered together some rocks and twigs, shoving them into the little snowman, creating eyes and arms. All it needed was a nose. Not bothering to snuff out the last half of the Lucky, Little Eddie shoved it into the creepy miniature snowman’s contorted face.

As soon as the cigarette was in place, the snow creature’s black eyes came to horrifying life. The tip of the cigarette glowed red, followed by a stream of

smoke coming from the tiny ice monster’s mouth.

“Oh fuck me that’s good,” a gravelly voice sighed.

Little Eddie was stunned. “You’re alive!”

“Yeah yeah. I’m Smokey the Fuckin’ Snowman. Yabba fuckin’ dabba fuckin’ doo. But not for long. What’s this? You gave me half a smoke? You poor or something? Haha. What am I saying? A little kid with a beard standing out in the snow wearing a denim jacket and smoking buttless Luckies. Of course you’re poor. Give me another smoke.”

Little Eddie did as he was told, lighting one for himself at the same time. He removed the almost-consumed butt from Smokey. Immediately, the cold black eyes went deader. But the came to life again when he inserted the new death stick.

“Oh fuck me that’s good,” Smokey said. “Sorry. I say that every time. It’s part of the magic.”

“That’s cool.” Little Eddie said.

“So you got anything stronger? Some weed? Maybe dipped in formaldehyde? Or PCP?”

“Uh, no. Just the Luckies.”

“Oh well. Listen kid, I don’t have much time. Here’s what I want you to do. Cough up some more lung butter and make a woman for me. And, oh Jesus. Why? You didn’t even roll me a dick. Do that too. Then leave the pack and scram. Smokey wants to pokie.”

“Yeah. I’m not going to do that.”

“The fuck you’re not you little fu– What are you doing?”

Little Eddie stood up and unzipped his pants.

“No! Please! Not that! Have some mercy!”

But Little Eddie had no idea what mercy was. The first steaming yellow splash hit the snow right in front of Smokey. Eddie didn’t want to put the cigarette

out quite yet. The urine created a makeshift bowl, and with carefull aim, Eddie managed to surround Smokey in the warm, rancid liquid.

Little Eddie finished his cigarette and watched Smokey slowly melt. Just as his face was about to go under and the cigarette that he used for a nose was about to go out, Little Eddie lowered his Ked down, careful not to splash, and crushed the life out of his little friend.

Considering for an instant, Little Eddie began his work, which ended with a Lucky being inserted into a new bile/snowman’s face.

“Oh fuck me that’s good,” Came the familiar voice. Smokey looked up just in time to see Little Eddie squat directly over him.

“Oh shit!” He just managed to scream out before being buried in the very thing he had shouted. Little Eddie laughed. Sure, January snow wasn’t nearly as magical as Christmas Snow, but it was going to be a super fun snow day anyway.

*Smokey the Snowman created by The Woodsman
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