The Rolls-Royce zoomed down the narrow two-lane hi way at breakneck speed. The auto appeared as a silver, some might say battleship grey, zephyr. The car was launching fear and trepidation at high speed through a blinding snowstorm.
“My lips are chapped, chapped Maxy. I must look like an add for skin cancer!”
Max gripped the steering wheel tightly, barely breathing as he attempted over and over again to keep the heavy automobile on the road as rain became sleet became snow became a blizzard.
“You drive like an idiot,” the tall thin blond-maned person opined loudly, “you drive like a rambling drunkard and a low person.”
The car swerved violently.
They both screamed loudly in unison.
Somehow the car righted.
“You scream at me. You want to get there now. I never knew the snow of the U.S. It engulfs us, it will kill us.”
After a few moments the driver understood how to turn on the window defrosters.
“Aha. Yes. Now I will drive as fast as possible.”
The short man pressed the gas pedal down all the way. The beautiful car immediately fishtailed too-and-fro, then side-to-side, completed a full circle at 100 miles per hour and then came to rest in a shallow snow filled ditch about 200 feet away from the road.
The high pitched screaming took five full minutes to subside.
“Oh my god! I can still breath! I am breathing Maxy. I am alive!”
The night was pitch black. It was now silent, so very silent. Outside of the car the darkness oozed against it, the mere absence of warmth seemed to make them panic a bit.Yet at the moment It was easy for them to resolutely observe fat snowflakes descend upon their lair with increasing volume.
“I feel as though we will choke on this, this big snow, I feel as though we must repair to safety.”
“Repair to…I mean to say…I can repair. You can repair. The…”
As they stood outside their disabled car it became instantly apparent they were not clothed properly for the freezing weather facing them.
“Your nose hairs are icing up! We will die out here Max!” The tall man with the chiseled facial features whined.
Max silently ran his hands over the damaged surface and new dents suffered by his beloved car.
“Look Max! There’s a little wooden hut. Let’s run to it.”
The short stocky driver led the way slipping occasionally thru the snow in his $1200.00 pair of thin leather hand-sewn sandals.
The howling vicious snow-filled wind fairly blew them through the door and into the pitch-black interior. Somehow Max found a candle which he quickly lit with his shiny titanium-encased cigarette lighter.
Their breaths became visible in the dim light.
The only things in the one room of the backwoods cabin were a couple of old huge trunks, a few mis-matched wooden chairs, and emptiness.
The temperature was 14 degrees below zero and the wind-chill factor drove it down even further. The two travelers were in acute danger of frostbite or worse.
“I’m freezing Max!”
“Ve vill open ze tronks!
“My god! is it just me or has your accent suddenly become Arnold-like?”
Max just glared at him for a moment.
They almost tore one trunk open in their haste to find warm clothing. The first trunk was full of what looked like Halloween costumes. They quickly opened the other trunk an saw that it contained what appeared to be old fliers for a traveling circus or acting group from L.A.
Quickly they picked through the Halloween garb and began hastily putting it on. There was a nearly complete gorilla suit, a complete giant bunny suit, fake boobs, skeleton masks, monster hands…the whole gamut. Most of the garments were very thin so they needed several to wear in order to stave off the cold.
Max reached down and grabbed something which he then immediately and forcefully shoved onto Franck’s head.
“Oh my god that hurt!” yet a few minutes later he shook the flaming red clown wig,”But it is warming my head.”
Franck then put on an enormous purple tuxedo while Max slipped into the fluffy bunny suit.
After a few minutes Max rested on top of a closed trunk hugging himself with white furred arms and ghoulish monster hands.
Franck collapsed on a chair.
“Oh this feels much better…much better,” he said softly.
“Yes,” Max answered softly, “It is good. There is no freezing to die here.”
Max lit another candle and began inspecting the fireplace. The expression on his face seemed to mimic the first time man discovered fire. He had no idea how it worked.
“You know I think the gorilla suit would have been a much better match for you.”
Max glared at him.
“I am just putting that out there…”
After a few moments he finally spoke.
“I haf no pocketz. Here.”
He held out his lighter and the keys to the car.
“What do you want me to do with those?”
Max slid his hands up and down his furry body demonstratively.
“I haf no Pocketz. Here.”
“I don’t want to put that in my pocket,” the tall actor said.
It was now Franck’s turn to glare at Max.
“You know I don’t put anything in my pockets. It breaks up the round contour of my rear and in the front pocket it draws too much attention.”
Max continued to cradle the items in his green monster hands.
“Do you remember what happened in Grand Rapids, Maxy?”
The giant bunny just slightly grunted.
Farmer Wenjensen woke up at daybreak. He slurped down a cup of black coffee his wife had been making for him for forty-three years and walked out the kitchen door which was a short distance to his beloved 1972 Dodge pick-up, short-bed, the one with the 225 slant-six engine.
He opened the old all-metal door and swung his butt into the new seat cushion his grand-niece had given him on his last birthday.
The early morning sun was just then kissing his end of the earth. It was a usual northern Montana winter day. The sun was shining brightly. The high winds from last night had died down so it was a balmy 8 degrees below zero.
He tried and tried, used all his tricks to start the old pickup but nothing worked.He climbed out of the cab when he seemed to spy something weird.
He shook his head twice, immediately wondered if he was going to die and leave his family destitute, and saw a huge white rabbit lunge forth from the periphery of his two-acre front yard. The rabbit seemed to be wobbling and slipping on the ice as it came towards him followed by what looked like, jumping Jehoshaphat, the Frankenstein monster.
The old man was no fool he had lived thru the World Wars, the hippies by god.
He reached behind the seat of his old pick-up and began shooting with his trusty .22 rifle.
The old Norwegian had never been a good shot. But he sure filled the air with lead.
“I haf no rezpekt for you!” the rabbit shouted.
Wenjesen scrambled back into his home as only an 82 year-old man can scramble. He told his 80 year old wife what had just happened and she gently held him by the shoulders and sat him down. She then served him a mug of hot chocolate.
“Momma it’s true. I saw what I saw.”
“Oh, Daddy. You eat something. You will see, you will be just O.K.”