Saturday, March 20, 2010

Burl the Snowflake

Immediately upon departure from my doorstep, a pleasant, plump little snowflake named Burl introduced himself to me. He asked, "Do you mind if I accompany you on your run, friend?" I enthusiastically replied "Yes!" as I was running this one alone and figured the company would keep my mind off of the distance. As I ran, Burl danced happily alongside my right shoulder regaling me with stories of his life as a snowflake. He explained his crowning achievement was being the tippy-top snowflake of a child's snowman from the 1st week of January through the 2nd week of February. He chortled heartily when he saw the perspiration forming on my brow. He said, "Friend, looks like you've got some future snowflakes forming there!" We both laughed and laughed.

Sadly, at about mile 6, Burl said, "Mike, I'm sorry I have to leave you, but it's time for me to hit the pavement. But don't worry, my time there is short and soon I'll be resurrected as a snowflake again. Until then, safe travels my friend!"

Burl was laid to rest at the Greenfield Golf Course clubhouse just along the Oak Leaf Trail. I stopped for a short moment, shed a small tear, smiled about our good times, and turned and headed for home. Here's where the story takes a tragic turn...

You see, Burl was loved by many other flakes, and because I had befriended their beloved pal, they were jealous and upset. Even though it's 2010, I guess the snowflake world just isn't ready for snowflake/human relationships. As I progressed towards home, millions of angry snowflakes slapped, spanked, and swiped my eyes, nose, and cheeks. Battered was I; there were just too many of them for me to fight back. My only choice was to put my head down and plow through the little bastards as I forged my way home. I was fortunate enough to have one secret weapon: LCD Soundsystem. The little icy shits never saw it coming for LCD Soundsystem gave me the strength of 10 men! Finally, after battling the little jagged ice crystal creatures for 6 miles, I triumphantly returned home. My clothes wet and stained with the innards of the little vermin.

The moral of the story? Never make friends with a fat snowflake unless you're headed for home.

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