There I said it; I am expecting the RCMP to come pounding on my door minutes after this is posted for the entire world to see. As I stand on my doorstep, shovel in my hand, white from doing battle with Jack Frost. I scream into the morning light, “I hate you winter! Go away and leave me alone!”
But you say Bob you’re Canadian. You’re supposed to like the snow and the cold and the Frosty the Snowman thing. To you I reply, enough already I give up. Take me away and lock me up somewhere warm, preferably Aruba.
40 years in this frozen hell is enough, if I had killed a man just to watch him die surely I would be granted parole by now. I’ve done my time; I deserve sandy beaches and fruity drinks delivered by girls in bikinis. Don’t I?
What did I do to deserve this? I go to work, pay my taxes. I don’t kick puppies or shove old ladies into oncoming traffic. It’s only November after all, and by my calendar that means I am locked in this icy wasteland until at least march. 5 months in the hole, 5 months of shovelling the driveway and plugging in my jeep. 5 long months of going to work in the dark and coming home in the dark.
Almost 6 weeks of enduring happy shoppers and smiling children waiting for Santa. Humbug! Ship me out in a box if that’s what it takes, just as long as it’s somewhere warm.
Thanks for listening. The nice man in the white coat says the shot is going to calm me down and make me sleepy. “Hello puppies, hello rainbows. I’m coming Elizabeth, I’m coming.”