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Snowman-ster

Greg Harvey

    A band of snow that fell late last night brought a sense of innocence to the blanketed small neighborhood of Alexandria, MN. People were often victims to the wretched wintery blues, but not the community of Park View. The adept people of the cul-de-sac brought in the snow day with joy and excitement.
    Every lucrative home was complete with a loving family. Husbands’ usually worked their nine to five’s, children went to school willingly, and everyone anticipated a snow day. Children would be at home or at a friend’s house enjoying time off, husbands would call-in and start their Paid Time Off early, and mothers would have their time around a fireplace over at an elite residence’s home. Gossip usually helped fuel the fire during these occasions, and no one would be hurt by any of the absurd allegations.
    But, Park View was cursed in one strange way. Whenever something felt out of place unimaginable things would take toll. Like when the Watsons decided to build a snowman a few weeks before Christmas. The fifteen foot snowman was marvelous in height, but when little Maggie placed a rope around its neck instead of a neck tie problems started to come forth. Miss Watson went into severe depression, Mr. Watson’s workplace took a drastic slump in the stock market, and little Maggie didn’t receive anything for Christmas that year. They couldn’t afford any presents because Miss Watson’s mother, little Maggie’s secret Santa, had passed away. Mr. Watson’s attachment to his neck ties was the family’s biggest downfall. Superstitions you might say, but I beg to differ.
    Take for instanw our prime family; the Chagrins. They usually took things for granted also, but now since Dad (because his name is to symbolize authority and morals) was spending most of his time at home, that framework of perfection seemed to vanish.
    Dad sat at the large table with his two kids. Their silence was a result of disconnect. Dad didn’t have anything to do with it. He couldn’t calm a circus of picnic ants with a flamethrower and a steamroller. The tiled tabletop displayed a sun flower which resembled what his oldest child, Rebecca, meant to him. Junior, a bit more uncivil and fast paced was always quick to get the job done correctly or not.
    Dad watched Rebecca rock and dance around in her chair like a caffeinated ballerina for quite some time. The constant squeaking of her chair which was marking up the floor irritated him. But, how could he say something, his kids barely knew him. His persuasiveness during conference sales meetings worked well in the market, but at home it was a whole different ball game.
     “Stop it, please,” Dad said.
    “May I be excused?” Rebecca responded, calming herself into a stable manner. Her natural blushed cheeks were covered with taco sauce. She wiped them with a napkin and started rocking in her seat again. Her anxiety made him feel weak.
    “Have you had enough of Mom’s famous tacos?” he asked staring at the microwave past the empty chair across from him. He wished his wife was around to uphold his meek discipline. “You know she works hard to provide you kids with such delectable dishes.”
    “I know, and I’m full, can I be excused?” Rebecca persisted rubbing her tummy in an achy fashion. He realized that she urgently had to attend other matters. “Please!” she wailed. The momentary buzzing from her high voice made his head spin like a washer machine.
    He relieved her of her post and watched her fly out of her chair to put her plate into the sink. Junior didn’t pay the exchange any mind, and Dad wondered if he suffered from ADD.
    Junior slopped up the last bit of sauce with his tortilla, and jumped out of his chair like a puny rocket. “Junior,” Dad shouted as he tried to make a daring escape. “Do you want to help me with the dishes?”
    “No, not really,” he responded.
    Dad rose from his seat and sat the plates into the sink. “Okay then, is all your homework done?” he asked.
    “Sure is, sir!”
    Dad looked at the blank assignments still attached to the refrigerator and shook his head. He didn’t know how to get these children to take him seriously. Whenever their mother was around the house would be spotless, homework would be done, and the kids would be off reading a book. She always said to be patient; well his patience was running low.
    “Okay then, you and your sister get bundled up and meet me outside for a little snowball fight,” Dad demanded. He stared at the snow covered backyard contemplating his next move. After rinsing off the dishes, he threw on his brown boots, his jacket and gloves, and headed for the door.
    The blustering chill of the wind made his blood withdraw into his core; his fingers went numb almost instantly. It was only four below but he barely had been outside as of lately. He started to construct a snowman around himself. His resilient attempt to prove his relevancy within his own home made his ego grow ten times greater than the Grinch’s.
    He covered his face and the drilled holes out for his eyes. The faint sounds of laughter filled his ears; the kids were out in the front yard playing. He began groaning loudly trying to get the children’s attention. “Ohhh! EEEE!” he shouted like a sissified elephant with a thorn in his foot. The children ran into the backyard expecting to see their father, but instead the yard was silent with a mild wind blowing the drifts of snow across the lawn. The children started searching high and low for him. They scavenged around the yard and even into the shed like expert detectives, but to their surprise their father was nowhere to be found.
    “Dad,” Junior cried out, “Where are you?”
    The snowman started laughing wickedly with an irking cough that sounded like he was unclogging his wind pipe. “He’s gone you moronic child,” the snowman said in a raspy and deep toned voice.
    The children made their way toward him hoping to clarify what he had said. “What do you mean he’s gone Mr. Snowman?”
    “Stop,” the Snowman shouted. The children came to a sudden halt and gazed on in fear. “Don’t come any closer or you shall perish like your simpleminded father.”
    “What? Why?” Rebecca questioned him. “You’re only a snowman without arms or feet, and you look pretty skinny.”
    “You’re right little girl. I am just a mere fragile snowman, but I have great power,” he emphasized with a loud cry. “I can turn humans into ice. Your father is now on his way to the North Pole as a frozen ornament to hang on Santa’s 50 foot tree.”
    “NO!”
    “Yes, and if you two don’t do what I say then he will perish forever. Good news though,” he announced with sympathy. “I can call him back and he will reappear before your very eyes.”
    “Please Mr. Snowman bring him back we’ll do anything,” Rebecca said while Junior wiped his watery eyes. The children had a look of disbelief and horror buried into their faces.
    “Only if you do what I say and quickly now, the North Pole isn’t as far as you think.”
    “Okay what do you want from us Mr. Snowman?” Rebecca asked.
    “First your name,” the snowman said with a mild cough.
    “I’m Rebecca sir and this here is my stubby little brother Daniel.”
    “But you can call me Junior,” he added.
    “Okay then, I wants you, Ms. Rebecca to go and wash those dishes. I can see the pile from here and it’s disgusting. And Sir Junior, place your father’s hat on my head, I am getting a head cold,” the snowman said erupting into a wicked laugh. “Hurry!”
    The children started sprinting to their tasks. Junior scooped up the knitted hat and threw it at the snowman’s face. The snowman watched hatless as the children ran inside and started scrubbing the plates. “You kids hurry up, your dad can’t hold on for too long,” he shouted. The children’s performance began to speed up rapidly as they hastily rinsed, dried, and stacked the dishes onto the counter.
    The snowman relaxed his stiff neck and admired the house, its luxury reflecting off the light streaming through the high snow clouds made the vinyl siding sparkle. He thought about his wife for a brief moment.
    Suddenly the children reappeared breathing heavily. “Okay Mr. Snowman we did what you said now bring our father back,” Junior said dropping onto both knees in severe exhaustion.
    “Uh, I don’t think so,” he responded. The kids stared into his swollen, red eyes in complete shock. “I have another request for you kids.”
    “What!” Junior shouted in fear of his father perishing for all eternity.
    “It will be too late Mr. Snowman, by time we get the other chores finished our father would have made it to Santa’s workshop,” Rebecca added.
    “Hush,” the snowman said shushing them. “You kids better hurry then and get your homework done. I can’t bring your father back to a clean house and your homework still incomplete, right?”
    “Yea, we guess so,” the children responded shallowly.
    “And boy this time place the hat onto my head,” the snowman said. His bottom lip started to quiver within the frosty cold. “Hurry!”
    Immediately they rushed off. Junior hurled the hat again into the snowman’s face inattentive to it hitting the ground. They ran back inside, snatched their papers off the refrigerator, and snuggled into the crevices of the warm living room.
     The snowman watched the sky aloft and all the changing colorations of the clouds that passed overhead. He couldn’t believe what a dad had to do to get some respect in this world. He thought about his new role as a stay at home father and how that made him feel. He felt lost and out of place, he wanted to be the provider like the all-American dad which his father was.
    He thought, If only I would have taken that pay cut, I would have still been working, and wouldn’t have to stress over this strict occupation. But, Helen was stressing also. She had to take in a job once the news broke free amongst the gossiping bunch. They would have lost their home, the children would have had to attend public schools, and the cursed thought of change drove her mad. So, she embraced the new role and approached every new day with caution, but still the small transition (as Dad would call it) made the unsettling waters roar in rage.
    “Okay Mr. Snowman,” Junior yelped, “We got all our homework done.”
    “What, already?”
    “Yea, it’s just yesterday’s stuff,” Rebecca remarked arrogantly wiping her hands, “Piece of cake.”
    “Oh really, that’s good. No wonder you kids get excellent grades, you’re too smart to be taken lightly,” the snowman said. The children blushed and turned their heads into their jackets bashfully. “Okay kids but you have to promise that you will always do as your parents say or else I will be back,” he said in a more normal pitched tone and coughing.
    “Hey what happened to your evil voice Mr. Snowman,” Junior asked.
    “Um, I must be coming down with a cold or something,” the snowman responded. He tried to clear the phlegm caught in his throat and speak, but instead he let out a loud squeak with every word. “Anyway, you kids come closer so we can sing the magical song.”
    The children stepped closer and closer until they were face to face with the odd looking snowman. “Now, repeat after me. We want our father back, we promise to pick up our slack, and if we shall fail at our daily chores again, the evil snowman will turn us into Christmas ornaments.”
    Suddenly the father jumped out of the snowman, sending the children running and screaming loudly. He fell to the ground laughing and nearly into tears as Junior jumped on top of him covering his face with handfuls of snow.
    “I knew it was you all along dad,” he said as Rebecca plopped down onto them both.
    “Yea right, come here you puny humans and let me turn you into Santa’s little ornaments,” Dad said getting to his feet. Chasing and laughter fulfilled the rest of the day, and this change brought much merriment to their home. They lived on knowing that their cursed neighborhood was safe from anymore visits from the evil snowman.



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