I woke up
and was greeted by the presence of seven inches of freshly fallen snow. I
really like snow-- like to ski in it, I like to build things with it and I even
like to throw it. I also enjoy shoveling it--Shoveling it is the best part. So
I got dressed, made a cup of tea, and woke up the (teenaged) kid.
He was, understandably
not as exited as I was about the presence of snow. I had to threaten to start
driving him to school to spur him into action. I then retired to the kitchen to
surf and sip my tea to the sounds of a scraping shovel.
It scraped
for a few moments, and then stopped. Shortly afterward, the (teenaged) kid
reappeared in the kitchen, dripping snow from his boots.
“How can
the shovel be broken?”
“The snow
sticks to it. It makes it really heavy.”
“Deal with
it. Get out there and shovel,” I said sternly.
He
clomped
back outside leaving puddles of cold water, and I sipped my tea,
waiting patiently. I knew it would be would return shortly with another
creative excuse.
He promptly
returned five minutes later, removing his coat. “Is there any pizza?” He asked.
“You have
to shovel first,” I said.
“I’m done.“
He continued to rummage through the fridge, pulling out a bag of leftover
pepperoni pizza.
“How can
you be done? You just went out there.”
“I got
someone to do it for me.” He said, reaching for a bottle of mustard.
“What?”
“This guy
who had a snow plows on his tractor.” He said, closing the fridge and putting
the mustard and pizza on the table. “Where’s the peanut butter?”
“You’re
telling me someone just came by and cleared the driveway?”
“What’s so
weird about that?” He asked, searching the cabinets for a jar of peanut butter.
“That’s not
natural. It’s like a one in a trillion chance. Like the chance of a rock from
Mars flying off the planet and coming to land in the backyard.”
“Or maybe
Penthouse Forums?” He asked slyly.
“How do you
know about that?” I asked.
“Wikipedia.
Everything’s on Wikipedia. Did you know that Hitler had rickets?”
“Rickets?”
“Yeah, you
know-the disease you get from eating uncooked pork.” He began to spread peanut
butter liberally on several pizza slices.
“What does
that have to do with the snow being cleared off by some stranger?”
The
(teenaged) kid used the squeeze bottle of mustard to put light brown smile
faces on the peanutbuttered pizza slices. The vague odor of horseradish wafted
through the air. “Hitler got rickets when he was 16. He found out about it when
he was sent out to shovel after a big snowstorm.”
“So?”
“I told the
guy I had rickets, and he offered to plow for me.” He arranged his pizza slices
on a plate and grabbed a can of Coke. “Mind if I take this upstairs?”
“Um, yeah.”
Comments