Huge herds of snowflakes have fallen recently and it is wild snowflake open season Open season happens only a few short months of the year and it is not something to be missed. It’s one of the few hunting seasons that is still free. Get your supply of these delicacies before the government finds a method of taxing them.
I have a sure fire method of telling if a snowflake is the wild kind or if it is the more common tame variety. This is important because the tame ones are hard to care for. I mean, feeding them is difficult if not impossible, grooming them takes special tools, they are hard to keep clean, and where does a tame snowflake sleep? Some people keep their tame snowflakes in snow banks, but not me. I just let them sit and after a while they get bored and melt away.
At any rate, I can tell if a snowflake is tame very easily. I hold out my sleeve, a dark color is best. If the snowflake sticks around for say twenty minutes or more and wants petted, it is probably a tame one. Give it the brush off and leave the area before you are captured by a herd of them.
If, however, the snowflake leaves in only a few seconds it is in a herd of wild ones and can be captured for immediate consumption. Guide books recommend eating them fresh out of the sky as the other options tend to get a bit stale. More on that later.
Catching them takes a great deal of skill and I have the bruises to prove it. Here’s what I did to learn the fine art of collecting them. I first tried to catch one on my finger. Before I could taste it, or even put it in my mouth, it melted. I knew I would have to be much faster.
The next time I was in a herd of wild snowflakes, I caught one on the palm of my hand. Remembering how fast the other one melted, I slammed that snowflake into my mouth. Unfortunately, the snowflake melted and I got a slap in the face. I wasn’t expecting that and I slipped on the ice, falling on my, ...whatever. My dignity was bruised and I looked around to see who observed the snowflake attacking me in such a vicious manner. Unfortunately old Mrs. Witherspoon saw me and made a bee line for her phone. In a small town this was big news. I was now sentenced to be passed around the phone lines like a joke at the office. Oh, well, it wouldn’t be the first time.
I looked up at the sky to cuss out the rest of the herd when I realized that a great chunk of them was headed directly for my face. Not wanting to be ambushed, I opened my mouth to scream but before a sound came out, several of those snowflakes committed suicide in my mouth. They were tasty little morsels. I lay there eating away, not even needing a fork or spoon, when I realized that my eyelids were getting covered with a pile of them too. I shut my eyes and removed the snowflakes, dumping them on the ground. They could well be contaminated. After all I knew where my eyes had roamed.
It was then that I devised a crafty alternate method of capturing wild snowflakes. I stuck out my tongue and low and behold, I caught twins. Yum! I tried again and found this method really effective. Well it was until I got hit over the head by something hard. Before the stars had cleared, I heard a decidedly old lady’s voice.
“That’ll teach you to stick your tongue out at me, you nasty old man!”
“What’s a grown man doing lying here on the ground with his mouth hanging open?” asked another voice.
“And then sticking your tongue out at respectable young women,” chimed in a third female voice.
“I wasn’t sticking out my tongue at you beautiful young ladies. (They were at least ninety five if they were a day.) I was catching wild snowflakes.”
“Didn’t your mother ever tell you not to eat snow?”
I stood up and brushed snow from everywhere.
“Yes. Of course, but this isn’t your usual dirty snow, the old stale, kind, the even older mixed with brown kind or even the dreaded yellow variety. No, Ladies, these snowflakes have been purified by the inhabitants of heaven and sent to you; direct delivery.”
“How do you catch them?” asked one old biddy.
“Brace yourself,” I explained, “so you don’t fall down.”
One of them planted her cane into a nearby snow bank and tied her leg to it with her scarf. Another sat on the chair piece of her walker. The third one defiantly stood alone.
“Never mind my imbalance, Young Man. Just show me how to capture those little flakes. Never did like bran anyway.”
I showed them and soon they were all three looking at the sky and aiming their tongues at the snowflakes. I tiptoed off so as not to get hit again.
Turning the corner of the block, I ran into three men in white uniforms. They picked me up out of the snow bank as I was trying to keep them between me and those old biddies.
“What were you doing to those ladies? They’re sticking out their tongues at you,” said one burley guy.
“I didn’t do anything to them. One of them hit me with her cane.”
“Sorry about that. We’ve been looking for them all afternoon. Strayed from the home and got lost I’m afraid. Poor dears..”
I kept moving and whistled all the way home. Capturing wild snowflakes is a solitary activity..