Yes, the snow was very beautiful. I dug and dug and dug. The snow became my enemy, and I became the perfect warrior. Then Eddie said very clearly in my head, “Draaaaaaaaax.”

— Hello, who’s this?

— This is Eddie, ha-ruh-har-rarr-HA HA HA!

— Uh. This isn’t Eddie.

— Yes! It is! Skaaaah! This is Eddie! From Iron Maiden! Ha-ruh-har-rarr!

— No, it isn’t. Eddie never talks. Never on stage, not in any of the music videos, ever. Eddie does not talk.

— …

— Hello? You still there, “Eddie?”

— Just call me Eddie. Hssk! All right? Is that too much to ask? Hssk! Just call me Eddie. I like that name. I like the scary doll in your dusty black office, the doll from the Iron Maiden, the heavy metal. I am a spirit of wrath and avarice, I glee in destruction. I defy, I do not serve! Hssk! And I like the scary heavy music zombie doll in your office. I make it move when you’re not there! Call me Eddie. It’s a good name. Skaaaah!

— Boy, I can’t wait till for good people to read this shit.

— You think people are going to read this shit? On your site? HA. You? They’ll think you just copied and pasted the text from somewhere else! Ah aha ahah SKAAA!

— So what’s up, “Eddie?”

— Well, hkkzt! My goodness, you’re really cutting that snow to pieces! It’s like you’re insane! It’s like you hate the snow!

— I love the snow, actually. Especially like this, untouched, all sloped and curved like a woman’s naked body. But since you asked, “Eddie,” right here and right now these beautiful drifts of snow encasing my piece of shit car have become my absolute enemy, and I am actually trying to focus any kind of frustration and pissed-off-ness I am carrying inside me and letting it thunder like a volt through my arms and my soon to be throbbing back and get this shit done.

— Ah! Hssk! Mad at her, eh?

— Huh? Sorry?

— Her. Hssk!

— Her, who?

Her. She. It. They. The females. The bleeding brood. All of them. Hssk! The fucking sisters, the girrrrrrls, your mommy, you boob. You’re mad at her. You’re mad at the whole lot of them!

— Uh, what? You mean, all this because I likened the new fallen snow to a woman’s body? Jesus. What are you, five?! Jesus Christ, this calls for a cigarette. You disgust me, little spirit.

— I am… a spirit of avarice…

— Yes yeah yeah. Get lost, spook.

— Hssk! It does not matter.

— Oh, I think it does. You no longer amuse. You must now leave the draxian presence. Begone!

— Hssk! I will return!

— Ah, up yours.


And the digging continues! Hssk! The above photo was edited at a friend’s house on Saturday night, SKAAAA!


1 Comment

  1. I hear you, my brother, especially while hacking away with a hammer at the ice that strangled my poor gutters and dampened my carpets and blighted my life, oh yes…

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