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Thread: Ice

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    Oct 2001
    A strange and magical frozen land of ice and beer called "Canada"

    Default Ice

    There's nothing quite like the friendships you forge in your childhood- most times they're the ones that last your entire lives. We didn't have much growing up; in those days we were thankful to have anything more than a roof above our heads and a good meal or two a day. What we lacked in material wealth, we made up for with imagination. Finding your own adventures was the task of the day, and what better adventure is there than an adventure with your closest friends? Now, we weren't the pack of neighborhood toughs, though we certainly did like to think it on occasion. Each new adventure, or misadventure, had to be bigger and more grandiose than the last. Jumping from traincar to traincar in the old scrap railyard one day, jumping across rooftops the next. To this day I consider it an act of God Almighty that none of our crew landed in the hospital or the grave. Those truly were the days that made us feel alive.

    Our best adventure? Well, that would have to be one winter morning over the Christmas holidays. Couldn't tell you what year exactly, but it was probably before your time- the ol' memory ain't what it used to be. There was me, Kevin, and Jimbo, and we were on a trek through the snow fields just outside of town. Back in those days, the folks couldn't give a shit if you were walking down Hell's high acre, just as long as you were home by dinner. Anyway, we were just making it to the top of a hill when Jimbo suddenly darted ahead like he had a fire on his ass. "Last one there's a penis pump!" He yelled, dashing to the frozen lake in the distance.

    Well! Kevin and I sure weren't no penis pumps, so we ran right after him. "That's not fair! Wait up! Wait up!" We cried to no avail.

    Jimbo hit the ice well before us, sliding across like one of those surfing fellas from California. "Holy cow I'm going so fast-!" He cheered, just before his feet suddenly slid out from underneath him, sending him crashing to the frozen surface below, screaming, "Ah fuck!" Kevin and I stopped at the edge of the lake, watching in helpless horror as Jimbo tried and failed to stand up again. Now, Kevin and I, we didn't know much about wilderness survival, but it didn't take an Einstein to figure out that we needed to get Jimbo off that lake, and we needed to get to done yesterday. With hands linked, Kevin and I stretched ourselves as far as we could across the lake, but we were woefully short.

    Suddenly, we heard something coming up from behind us. With the word "Punks," muttered disappointingly carried through the crisp cold air, a skiier glided up before us, coming to a stop with masterful ease.

    "Hey you gotta help us!"

    "We need to save him!"

    Kevin and I immediately started talking over each other, desperate for a rescuing hand. Boy, were we in for a surprise.

    "Hey what the fuck are you kids doing on my fucking lawn?" The strange man barked at us. Can't quite place the accent- Welsh maybe? Anyway, he went on. "Hey don't look at me when I'm fucking talking to you!" Now, that completely flew right in the face of everything my folks had taught me, but this man sure was a strange one, and we sure as Hell didn't want no more trouble. We averted our eyes, looking back at Jimbo.

    "Unnf, unnfffff, help me, unffff," Jimbo moaned, writhing on the ice like a fish out of water.

    "Get off my ice you little wankers," The stranger ordered again. Kevin and I knew this fella meant business. I glanced around, and to my surprise and relief, there was a tree branch, long and sturdy enough to reach across the ice to Jimbo. "Alright, give 'im the stick," said the strange skiier. Heaving it up in my arms, I reached it out to Jimbo. The tip waved around a bit, Jimbo snatching at the air trying to catch it. Kevin and I grit our teeth. Our pulses raced. With each passing second another fractured line appeared on the ice under Jimbo. Finally, after what seemed like hours, Jimbo caught the branch in his hand. Our relief was like a refreshing wave washing over us.

    It didn't last long.

    "DON'T GIVE 'IM THE STICK!" The stranger yelled at us.

    "We're sorry!"

    "Do you know my dad?"

    And then... the stranger took in a deep breath, puckered his mustachioed lips, and let out a long yodel.


    In one continuous, rumbling baritone, he serenaded us with that one long note. Kevin and I pulled Jimbo ashore, and believe you me, we ran like the Devil himself was chasing after us. Back over the hill, back through the forest, over the tracks and back to my front yard. Winded, wheezing, and thoroughly shaken, we were all hunched over, each of us wondering what in all creation we had just experienced. After that, we decided that no amount of ante-upping would ever top today's overdose of excitement.

    Now, we still had our daily adventures after that. In fact, we had one trek after another for decades, up until Kevin got himself married off. I don't see him much, busy with those two kids of his now. Jimbo, well, he went and got himself in the movies. Big star over in Europe, never could find his footing in Hollywood, for one reason or another. Me? These days I run my own little farm. Always been a country boy, always will be.

    Still, every winter, on cold, clear days, I look to the west, and I can still hear him.

    That stranger.

    His song ever echoing over the fields.
    Last edited by Mewfour; 17th June 2020 at 01:48 AM.

    Mewfour is a Canadian writer and longtime TPM veteran.
    Over his impressive 9-year ficcing career he has won 5
    Silver Pencils and 3 Golden Pen awards, and currently holds
    the record for most times won Most Evil Fanficcer (3)

    He's also not above posting stuff about himself in the third person.

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