Captive of SnowSubmitted by Soyware at 2010-01-03 22:37:10 EST
Rating: 0.66 on 7 ratings (7 reviews) (Review this item) (V)
"Stupid heater," I mumble. Crawling out of bed, it hits me just how cold the house is. At least it’s blowing warm air, trying to do it’s job for once and not making those infernal “tick… tick… tick tick tick tickticktick PANG!” noises. Before I move I should give it what it keeps asking for: a solid whack with a hammer.
No, I shouldn’t blame the unit; it’s the same type I’ve seen in a hundred other houses. The real fault lies in the windows and walls of my shitty shanty. Most of the cracks are filled, but there are only so many band-aids you can put on an eighty year old fixture. Out of habit I walk to the main room window to open the blinds.
“Oh, so that’s why.” Even a sturdy house would be a cooler right now. My car, parked on the side of the street twenty feet away from me, is barely visible through the gentle haze of wrist watch sized flakes. The CB antenna looks like a flag pole, and I smile to myself thinking maybe I should wade (or perhaps, spelunk?) out there and claim the neighborhood as a territory of Iania. Turning to go to the bathroom, I wake up a bit more, and realize what I was just looking at.
“No fucking way!” I whip around and look again, and then rush down my narrow, creaky, stairs. At the bottom I wonder if it’s a good idea to open the front door, but I’m already caught up by the excitement. Fortunately the snow doesn’t avalanche in, but the overhang still proved mostly useless at keeping the elements at bay.
My behemoth downstairs neighbor is on the porch too. She looks my way, grunts, grimaces, kicks her dog for barking, and heads back inside. At first I’m struck by the urge to write “piss off” on the newly made wall by her door, but I think better of it. The morning stream smell might linger for a while, and I don’t want to inconvenience myself. I’ll just put on a loud porno and do some aerobics instead.