Snowman Assembly Kits

“I’m so tired of all this snow,” Aaron grumbled before taking a long sip of his Snapple.

It was Sunday morning, and the best friends were seated on their favorite bench that overlooked the Penobscot River.

And since it was March in Maine, it was also snowing.

“What do you propose we do about it?” Holly asked because she was in the mood for one of Aaron’s unhinged rants.

She calmly sipped her coffee and waited for him to unleash his verbal fury.

“The government should regulate it,” he suggested.  “They get involved in everything else, so why not the weather?  At least this way, I’d feel like my tax dollars were being spent on something that was near and dear to me.”

“And how would the government regulate snow?” she asked with a charming smile.

Aaron shrugged.  “I don’t know.  Maybe put a capacity limit on clouds.  Once they dump their limit of snow on us for the season, they can’t fill up again.”

Holly chuckled.  “I know you’re an artist, and science was never your thing, but you clearly have no idea how weather works.”

“Nor should I have to,” Aaron quickly countered.  “This is why we have elected officials.  They can regulate the weather while normal people like me can focus on more important things like writing.”

Holly sighed and wondered how Aaron’s science teachers had put up with him.

“You understand that those aren’t the same clouds that were there earlier this week, right?” she asked as she pointed skyward.

Aaron took another sip of his Snapple and looked over at her.

“I’m not going to look up there and let snow fall on my face,” he growled.  “But the clouds always look the same to me, so how do I know you’re telling the truth?”

Holly’s shoulders slumped slightly.  She couldn’t believe that someone so intelligent could also be so stupid at times.

“The clouds aren’t the same,” she assured him.  “You’ll just have to trust me on this.  And because new clouds are always moving in with new weather, it would be impossible for the government to impose a snow capacity limit.”

Aaron shrugged again.  “Then maybe they should build a dome that can keep out the snow.  And before you tell me that’s not possible, try reading Under The Dome, which was written by our neighbor on that side of the the river.”

He pointed across to the Bangor side of the river, where Stephen King lived.

“That sounds like an excellent idea,” Holly lied because the conversation was beginning to bore her.  “Why don’t you write a letter to our Senator and suggest a dome?  Anything else you’d like the government to fix as long as you’re writing that letter?”

Without hesitation he replied, “I’d like them to put an end to this baseball lockout because springtime without baseball is simply un-American!”

“Now that is an idea I can get behind!” Holly declared as she raised her coffee cup in salute.

“Wait!” he demanded in confusion.  “Are you saying you don’t support my dome idea?”

“I’m not saying another word,” she informed him.  “That’s my right as an American.”

Aaron held his tongue, but he shook his head and kicked at the snow in disgust to convey how he felt about that…