Carrots and Coal

 

        Why is it always at the end that we think back to the beginning? We never stop to reflect on where we're going until we have no choice but to wonder how we got here. I suppose it's only natural to get lost in the rat race of it all. The world can be so hectic. So stressful. So exhilarating. As I find myself in my twilight hours, everything comes flooding back to me. My friends. My family. Growing up in the same place I die. Most of all, I remember the good times. The key moments that would become the story of my life.

        Shoot, I forgot to introduce myself.  I’m Mr. McSnowsprinkles.  What?  That’s my name.  You got a problem with that?  Not all of us can be Tom Cruise, you know.  Besides, when do any of us get to choose the name we’re given?  My mom did the best she could.  Hers was Clara, by the way.  She was such a sweet little thing.  Super curly brown hair, the biggest blue eyes, and a smile so warm it could melt your face off.  Literally.  I still can’t believe how much she sacrificed for me.  She was only six years old when I came along.  Had to drop out of school on account of the snow.  My dad took off when I was still only two lumps high.  He was technically my mom’s eight-year-old brother, Corbin, but try not to think too hard about it.  I know I don’t…that deadbeat.  I bet he’s already OD’ed on cocoa by now, resting in some place real hot, if you catch my drift.  Serves him right.

Anywho, where was I?  Ah, yes.  The glorious morning I came into the world.  Like most snowpeople, I was born breech.  That’s right.  Feet first. Or butt first?  That whole region’s pretty much the same to us.  Either way, I was blessed with a perfectly big round tush.  The kind a Kardashian could only dream of.  Then came the torso.  I don’t mean to brag, but my core strength is top notch with how tight my mom packed that snow.  I’m talkin’ an ab like steel.  If only my arms weren’t so thin and gangly.  Other people have guns.  I was born with slingshots.  At least my mom made sure I had a good head on my shoulders.  Gave me her good looks too.  

I can actually remember the first time I laid eyes on her.  She popped in a couple chunks of granite and there she was, the most beautiful thing I ever saw.  As for the yard in which I found myself, it was a delightful little plot.  Its lawn was buried under a glistening white layer of virgin powder, encircled by a picket fence and a pair of barren trees.  The rest of the neighborhood shared a similar charm, cars frozen in their driveways while other kids laughed and played in the distance.  I let it all wash over me, taking in the multitude of bright new sights and sounds.

It didn’t take much to impress me.  I was still a newborn, after all.  And proudly low maintenance, I might add.  I never cried or wandered off or insisted on being held.  It was enough to simply have two stones and a carrot…in the right spot, that is.  Thanks to Mom’s addition of a nose, I could smell all the fantastical aromas wafting through the air.  There was snow and…some more snow…I think a dog poo buried a few feet away…the fleece of Mom’s coat…oh, and the leaves!  She picked a few of them off the ground and stuck them under my carrot to give me a mustache.  I’ve heard of kids being born with a full head of hair, but try having a full face.  I was only five minutes old and already rocking an epic handlebar.  

All I needed now were some clothes.  I couldn’t very well stand around with my snowballs hanging out now, could I?  Mom slipped off her scarf and wrapped it around the cleavage where my neck should be, topping off my ensemble with a paper hat in the shape of a cone.  Sure, I probably looked like the Jack in the Box guy had a baby with the Pringles mascot, but I was special and complete.  More importantly, I was made with love.

As you could imagine, my childhood didn’t last long.  Not with how fast we snowpeople grow up.  The second Mom finished building me, we fell under attack by a horde of bloodthirsty savages.  There had to have been at least five of them, bucktoothed and roughly our size.  They scooped handfuls of snow off the grass and from the surrounding cars, throwing it at us from the other side of the fence.  Mom giggled and ducked behind me, using my body as a shield.  The enemy fire chipped away at me, blowing off chunks of flesh with each hit, but I could take it.  Clara was the woman that gave me life.  Who would I be if I wasn’t willing to take a bullet for her?  

After surviving the first barrage, Mom tore off a piece of my butt and hurled it at one of our assailants, nailing him squarely upside the head.  He fell to the ground, his crushing defeat somehow dulling the sting of my wounds.  I couldn’t explain it, but an unmistakable euphoria came over me, eclipsing my pain with a thirst for conquest.  Those heathens…they had to pay for invading the sanctity of our yard.  For daring to raise their hand against my mother.  I could already see the fear taking hold in their eyes as they watched their comrade meet his end.  They’d come to understand the truth just as I had—that every part of my body was a weapon.  

Mom readied another two-handed volley from my stomach, sating my hunger for vengeance by taking down the biggest of our attackers.  She had the aim of a goddess, striking the behemoth in the ear and groin.  He collapsed to his knees, clutching his broken chestnuts, his high-pitched squeal signaling his minions to retreat.  They collected their wounded and fled to the opposite side of the street, leaving our dominion to never return.  

“We did it!” Mom cheered happily.

She took a step back to look at me, biting her lip while she assessed the damage.  I tried to tell her that I was ready, that I was prepared to die in her honor, but she wouldn’t have it.  Instead she bent down and grabbed for more snow off the ground, deciding to patch the holes in both my body and spirit.  Mom always had such an amazing bedside manner, so calm and pleasant as she patted me back into shape.  The feel of her healing mittens against my tender snow.  Before I knew it, I was whole again, the rest of my life back in my own two sticks.

I wished so badly to thank her, to give her at least a hug or a high five, but alas, mobility was beyond my reach.  I wasn’t Frosty the Snowman.  That guy was a legend.  The Chuck Norris of all iceborne winterfolk.  It was every snowperson’s dream to get an enchanted hat or have some gorgeous silver-haired witch with magic hands come along and grant us the gift of animation.  I always wondered what I would do if I could walk and talk like the warmskins do.  Certainly nothing as idiotic or suicidal as waiting for summer.  I knew to keep my expectations in check.  I’d try to play the long game.  Maybe find myself a nice meat locker to settle down in.  I’d pull a couple of those beef carcasses off the hook and fashion me a couch or two.  Then I’d throw a halfway decent flat-screen on the wall and invite Mom over to watch Christmas specials until next winter.  Yeah…that’s the ticket.

In the meantime, I had to be content with what I had—a fixed view of the yard with my arms stuck in a perpetual T-pose.  What?  You think that’s easy?  I dare you to go stand in the front yard and try to hold your arms up all day.  Wouldn’t last more than an hour, I’d wager.  Probably give up after a few minutes from all the confused stares coming from the neighbors.  Not me, though.  I took it like a champ.  As long as I had my mom by my side, I was invincible, basking in the joy of her company.

I’ll never quite know what it was, but something about snow just fascinated her in a way I can’t even describe.  She would frolic back and forth, stomping in it, laying in it, making angels in it…eating some of it.  OK, that last part was a little creepy all things considered, but it was still kinda cute watching her catch those tiny snowflakes on her tongue.  Her laugh was like music to my ear holes, so pure and infectious.  I could’ve stayed like that forever, just the two of us against the world.  How naïve I was to think it would last.  That was before the dark times.  Before Rufus came into the picture.  

I remember hearing the creak of the front door as Clara’s parents let him out of the house.  The scraping of nails on concrete filled the air, accompanied by the jangling of a metal collar.  He seemed pretty harmless as he first came into view.  Just a wrinkled mass of rusty brown fur with a long twitchy snout.  And those eyes, so black and beady.  Like a couple of polished lumps of coal.  He trotted right past me without so much as a hello, then threw his dirty paws on my mom’s chest and started licking her all over the face!  That sick, depraved animal, insulting her virtue right in front of me!  It was at that moment I realized what had truly entered our midst.  A wolf in dog’s clothing.

“R-rufus, stop it!  You’re too slimy!” Clara chuckled.

The pervy mutt dropped back down onto four legs, tossing me a sideways glance as if to say, “Yeah, you see that, buddy?  That’s how I roll.”  

I glared at him as hard as I could, hoping he could feel my seething hatred nipping at his nose.  Apparently, it must have come across as, “Please, Sir, I’d like some more,” because he promptly turned his bestial vigor on me, flicking his tongue up and down my belly.  It tickled at first, like a wet rag against my skin.  Then I felt it—the burning of his hot saliva melting through me, his steamy breath as cutting as dragon fire.  I tried to scream for help, begging Mom to come to my rescue, but my voice was never able to reach her.  Such was the curse of those born of ice.  Her kind didn’t have the power to hear us.  

Mom just stood there with an innocent grin on her face while that monster went to town on me.  “Awwww, look at that, Mr. McSnowsprinkles.  I think he likes you.”

Except that he didn’t.  He was trying to murder me in the most scandalous of ways.  Just when I thought things couldn’t get any worse, Rufus turned and lifted one of his hind legs, unleashing some kind of yellow acid.  The stream bore a hole straight through the side of my body, searing me down to my core, its bite beyond anything I’d ever experienced.  Mom was finally somehow able to realize my agony, shooing away my would-be assassin with a firm rebuke.

“Rufus!  No!  McSnowsprinkles is not a toilet!”

Truer words were never spoken.  I was just glad she discovered the truth before it was too late.  I couldn’t bear the thought of leaving Mom alone in Rufus’ clutches.  He continued to assert his dominance, repeatedly slapping me with his tail while Mom administered her usual healing touch.  She spent the next hour or so playing with him in the yard, never truly understanding the trauma he inflicted on me.  Still, it warmed my heart to see her so happy, even if it was with that furry degenerate.  She ran and laughed, not a care in the world.  Oh, how I loved her.  If only time wasn’t so cruel, always slipping through our fingers.  

I could see Mom growing more and more tired as the sun rose higher in the sky.  Her breaths became heavier, no longer finding the energy to keep up with her sadistic companion.  I figured she would have to pass on eventually, but then I heard the sliding of a window from the second story of the house.  A man’s voice came from inside, echoing into the yard as though from the heavens themselves.  

“Clara, it’s lunch time!  Don’t forget to wipe your shoes on the way in!”

Mom looked up and smiled, still panting as she hurried to my side.  “I’m gonna have to go now,” she said, gazing into my eyes.  “Catch ya later, Mr. McSnowsprinkles.  It’s been fun.”  She gave me a warm hug, lingering for what felt like an eternity.  I imagined wrapping my sticks around her, holding her with the same fervent affection, wishing I’d never have to let her go.  What else would I do without her?  What else was I made for if not to bring joy to the people around me?  Regretfully, Mom didn’t leave me with any answers.  She simply patted me on the cheek and skipped away, disappearing into the house with Rufus following closely behind.  I wouldn’t ever know what it was like for her on the other side of that door, but the ordeal taught me a very important lesson—when the Man Upstairs calls you home, that’s all there is to it.  

Now that I was alone, the world became eerily quiet.  All of the other neighborhood kids had withdrawn into their respective households, no doubt having succumbed to their own fatigue and the hypnotic glow of the TV.  The only thing staving off the silence was the faint whistling of a breeze and the few critters brave enough to venture into the open.  A tiny squirrel poked his head out the nearby tree, his nostrils tasting the air in my direction.  He chattered his teeth as we locked eyes, his bushy tail flipping up excitedly.

“Hey there, little guy,” I said in the friendliest voice I could muster.  “I’m Mr. McSnowsprinkles.  Nice to meetcha.  What’s your name?”  The squirrel ignored my introduction, scurrying down the tree and across the yard.  He stopped at my feet, peering up at me with a tilt of his head.  “Well, aren’t you a curious fella,” I chuckled.  “Are you lonely too?”  The squirrel blinked in confusion.  “Yeah…guys like us should stick together.  So, what should I call you, little buddy?”  The squirrel raced up the side of my belly, staring at my nose as he perched on my shoulder.  “Oh ho!  You like my carrot, do ya?  Is that what we should call you?  ‘Mr. Nosy’?”  The squirrel let out a fearsome hiss, foam dripping from his mouth as he flashed his yellowed teeth.  “Is…is that a no?”

Before I could hazard another guess, he lunged at my face, ravenously snapping his jaws at my carrot.  I tried to shake him off, desperately willing myself to move, but it was no use.  All I could do was bargain as he bit a chunk out of my nose.

“OK, what if we drop the ‘Mr.’?” I cried.  “We’ll keep it on a first name basis!  Like Beyoncé!  Or Shakira!”

The squirrel shot me a menacing glare, clearly a bigger fan of bluegrass country.  He climbed to the tip of my carrot, about to go for a second helping when a sound from the next yard over froze him in place.  Someone was coming outside, the crunching of their boots driving the little cretin back to his hole in a hurry.  I glanced up, expecting to see a new child eager to play in the snow, finding instead a young man in a bright red beanie.  Judging from his baggy carpenter jeans and black leather jacket, I had him pegged for his mid-twenties, a wild glint in his eyes as he surveyed the yard.  

As the man stepped off his porch, I noticed something hanging from the hammer loop of his pants—a wooden replica samurai sword.  Who was this guy?  Why did he need such a random weapon to enjoy the winter wonderland?  I watched anxiously as he waded to the center of the lawn, unsheathing his blade only to plant it tip-first into the ground.  He then hunched over and began to gather snow into a heap, rolling three progressively smaller balls and stacking them together.  The man scrounged up a couple of sticks to jam at either side, using some jumbo marbles from his pocket to make eyes and a mouth.  It was another snowperson!  Finally, I wasn’t alone anymore!

“Ahoy there!” I cried out.  “Hey, you over there!  Can you hear me?!”  I paused with bated breath, listening as a teenage boy’s voice arose from the other yard.  

“D-duuuuude…where am I?”

I was so giddy my mustache almost fell off.  “Welcome to the world, Neighbor!  It’s so great to meetcha!  I’m Mr. McSnowsprinkles!  What’s your name?...Please don’t eat my face…”

The new guy turned his marbles in my direction, his tone still dripping with confusion.  “Wait, Mr. McWhatnow?  I…I can’t remember who I am…head all fuzzy…feels baked like a gingerbread man…”

“You haven’t been given a name yet?” I asked.  “Don’t worry, not everybody does.  In the meantime, how’s about we call you Baker?”

“B-baker?” the new guy parroted.  “Whoooooaaa, that’s got a sweet ring to it, bro.  OK then, Baker it is, Mr. Dudesprinkles.”

“Snowsprinkles,” I corrected.  “I’m pretty sure I would know if I were made out of ‘dudes’.”

The man in the red beanie continued to work, quickly spawning an entire brood of more snowpeople, arranging them in a circle around him.  They all seemed to look about the same, each with a simple body and marble-embedded face, but it didn’t take me long to fall in love with every unique personality.  There was Brittney the British nanny, Preachy the philosophy major, Sheisty the politician, Robby the tax consultant, and Dingus the uh…well…let’s just say he wasn’t the sharpest carrot of the bunch.  True, I was kind of a seventh wheel on my own side of the picket fence, but even from a distance, I was overjoyed to have so many others like me to talk to.  They were my tribe.  My melt…a tad ominous, I know, but seriously, that’s what you call a group of snowpeople, look it up.

After putting the finishing touches on Dingus, the man in the red beanie returned to the center of the yard, taking a moment to smile at his creations.  They all regarded him with equal pride, clamoring amongst themselves.  “Behold our illustrious architect!” Preachy declared.  “We think, therefore we are!”

“I wonder if I could get him a tax write-off for all the marbles he donated to our charity,” Robby chimed in.  

“I’d take him as my vice president anytime!” added Sheisty.  

“He’s awesome enough in my book, for sure,” Baker agreed.  

“And such a well behaved young lad,” Brittany said in her Cockney accent.

“Heh, heh…yeah,” Dingus tagged on as well.  

The man in the red beanie gave his arms a stretch, then reached for his wooden katana, pulling it from the ground.

“Hang on a tick…what’s ‘e got there?” Brittany asked, a hint of fear creeping into her voice.  “Is…is ‘at a sword?”

The man squared himself in front of Dingus, slowly raising the katana over his head.  

“Whoa, whoa, whoa there, hot stuff, what are ya doin’?” Sheisty cried out.  “Let’s take a sec to schmooze a little.  Surely we can work through whatever’s grinding your gears.”

“He’s right!” Robby exclaimed.  “There’s no need to do anything rash now.  Just put down the beatstick and let’s get to know each other a little better, OK?”

Dingus gazed up at his maker, snickering in his typical dimwitted baritone.  “Heh, heh…swords are cool.”

The man brought down his weapon with a mighty chop, dramatically naming his attack as it split Dingus in two.  “Blazing tiger slash!”  Dingus’ snowy innards splashed over his surrounding brethren, their faces still trapped behind an inescapable grin.  They stared in silence for a moment, Preachy’s voice finally breaking through in abject horror.  

“Shave my icicles and call me a snow cone…he thinks this is Comic Con!”

All the snowmen screamed in unison, watching as the man in the red beanie moved on to his next victim.  “I say, you deserve a right spanking, you do!” Brittany scolded.  The man replied with a horizontal sweep, sending her head rolling onto the ground.  “You bloody wanker!” she cried up at him.  “You think you’re so tough?  How ‘bout you come down ‘ere and—”  The man stomped what was left of her, leaving a perfect boot print where her head had been.

“Bubula, come on, let’s talk about this,” Sheisty coaxed.  “Tell ya what, once I get elected, I’ll make you czar of sanitation!  It’s a real do-nothing job!  Sweet gig!”

“Lightning Dragon Fang!”  The man smashed him with another cinematic blow, water dripping from the tip of his blade.

“No!  Please!  I can make you rich!” Robby pleaded.  “I can pull some strings with the IRS!  All you have to do is—”

“Evil-destroying whirlwind!”

“Dad, you’re obviously experiencing a manic episode,” Preachy pointed out.  “Luckily, I minored in psychology.  Just take a deep breath and we’ll do some—”

“Sky-shattering Cleaver!”

I stood petrified with fear, gawking as the carnage unfolded in the next yard over.  The sheer brutality of it all was more than I could bear.  I wanted to look away, but I…I just couldn’t.  Mom didn’t build me with any eyelids and there wasn’t anyone around to twist my head.  There was no choice but to watch as the man in the red beanie advanced on Baker, the first and last of his creations.  For a snowman, he was incredibly brave, staring down his doom without the slightest flinch.  

“You wanna go, bro?!  Let’s go!” Baker taunted.  “Gimme your best shot!  You hit like a Power Ranger!”

The man readied another vertical slice, calling out his final move as it came crashing down.  “Stone-splitting Burial!”  Baker’s body exploded into a pile of icy chunks, the marbles that once constituted his face scattering among the remains.  The man rested the katana over his shoulder, letting out a sigh as he admired his handiwork.  “Ahhh…that was fun.”  He glanced around for any potential witnesses, spotting me on the other side of the picket fence.  I stiffened up, terrified that my fate would be the same as all the others, hoping that this was just a nightmare from which I’d finally awaken.  To my surprise, it was neither.  The man simply dismissed me with a playful salute, strolling back into the house as casually as he had come.  

Silence fell over the yard, leaving me to stand as a tribe of one yet again.  I couldn’t believe it.  My friends had only just begun to live and already they’d been taken from me, slaughtered by the very hands that gave them form.  What was the point of it all, I wondered. Were they really born for the sole purpose of dying?  Was it my own destiny to remain alone forever, or was I just being caught up in the melodrama of some sort of midday crisis?  Whatever the reason, I was so distraught that I didn’t even notice the return of my old squirrel acquaintance until he’d reappeared on my shoulder.  

“Oh, hey, Nosy,” I muttered.  “Think you could ravage me some other time?  I’m not really in the mood.”

The squirrel glanced between me and the six mounds of snow in the adjoining yard, his eyes growing shiny as he realized my loss.  He reached out with his fuzzy little rodent hand, caressing my cheek to offer his condolences.  The feel of it shocked me at first, especially coming from the creature that only seemed to like me for my nutritional value, but it was so comforting at the same time.  It reminded me that I wasn’t merely a speck of dust drifting aimlessly through the cosmos.  Somewhere out there, in the place I least expected, there was compassion.  There was…dare I say it…a friend.  As I reveled at the notion, Nosy climbed on top of my head and began to retch like a cat with a hairball, barfing up the chunk of carrot he’d ingested earlier.  He then crawled onto my nose, slapping the clump of orange goo back into the cavity from whence it came, smiling at me with his giant incisors.  A gesture so beautiful it almost brought me to tears. 

“Awww, thanks, pal.  You’re the best,” I sniffled.  

Nosy accepted my gratitude with a squeak, patting my carrot one last time before scurrying back to his tree.  Even after he’d disappeared out of sight, his warmth stayed with me, invigorating me with a new optimism toward my existence.  Sure, the world was a cruel place, filled with buck-toothed bandits, public urination and crazies with wooden samurai swords, but there were good things too.  I had my friends and family, and while our time was often fleeting, I understood the preciousness of every second we spent together.  It was those highs that made it all worth the lows, sustaining me no matter what difficulties might lie ahead.

As the day dragged on into the afternoon, the elements began their assault.  The sun became hotter, driving me into a cold sweat.  The snow around me receded into the grass, my arms and face sagging as I grew steadily weaker.  What was once a morning breeze had intensified into a heavy gust, blowing the leafy mustache right out from under my nose.  Have you ever shaved with all the colors of the wind?  I’m not gonna lie, it’s a pretty transcendental experience.  Just wish it didn’t take my cute paper hat along for the ride.  Aside from my mom’s scarf, I was quickly turning into a bald, naked old man.  

I suppose that was the natural order of things.  Everything has to pass on eventually.  Sooner or later, I would finally melt away and join the snowpeople of ages past, my body sinking into the earth or evaporating into the sky.  After all, we were made from water, and to water we would inevitably return.  I started to wonder how much longer I would be able to hold on, debating whether or not to surrender to a peaceful rest, but then I heard Baker’s voice from deep inside.  He kept cheering me on, goading me with the all-encompassing question—what would Frosty do?  Would he just lie down and call it quits like a chump?  Heck no.  He’d grab that corn cob pipe with both hands and tell the universe, “Hey!  Gimme everything you got!  Every last drop, baby!”  So that’s what I did.  I stuck it out to the very end.  Even when the heat plucked one of my granite stones and made me a cyclops, it only sharpened my ears to the song of carolers working their way up and down the street.  An unseen choir playing to an audience hiding in plain sight.  My own personal concert.  

I was only about two feet tall when the sun decided to dip below the horizon.  It turned the clouds to gold, painting the sky itself with a hundred shades of orange and red.  A final parting gift from the divine.  I let it pass through my remaining eye, its light filling every corner of my soul with joy.  If only I could have shared the moment with at least one other person, I thought to myself.  It was too much to watch my first and last sunset alone.  Then, as if somehow hearing my prayers, she was there.  

“Woooow!  So pretty!” came Clara’s voice from beside me.  “Mind if I enjoy the view with you, Mr. McSnowsprinkles?”

I felt her mitten take my hand, so warm and tight, completing me like only a mother ever could.  It was the perfect Christmas present.  The love that was with me from the beginning.  The best possible ferryman to come send me off.  I didn’t know if we would ever see each other again.  There were no guarantees even if I managed to stay standing until tomorrow, but still, I believed.  What other choice did I have?  It’s gotten me this far.  Why stop now?  I like to think that I’ll be back next winter with the first Christmas snow.  It may be in a different form or a different place, but as Mom and I spent those last few moments in the twilight, there was one thing I could say for certain.  I had a great day.

Did you enjoy what you read? Subscribe to my monthly newsletter by clicking the link below. It's totally free, you won't be spammed, and you'll get updates on all my novel and short story releases! Exclusive content is on the way as well!