The Winter from Hell (or) Being The True Story Of A New Englander Leaving His House For The First Time In Three Months
I touch my walls, surprised they are not frigid. Through my dusty curtains I can see a bright light emanating from outside. I can hear the laughter of children in the distance, faint, a sound I can barely recollect after the past three moths of icy and unforgivable temperatures and week after week of constant snow. This was the kind of winter Shakespeare would’ve written whole plays around. The kind of winter that makes The Shining look like a documentary. I had a really old drunk lady grab my cock unexpectedly once when I was a pizza delivery guy at 16. This winter was way worse than that. Come to think of it, this winter is what I would imagine being raped by a snowman for three months would be like. But the snow has melted. The sky has cleared. The birds are chirping, and we New Englanders are all collectively leaving our houses for the first time in three months. I ask you to join me on this daring adventure of fresh air and actual human interaction. Should be fun….