An Unexpected Snowfall (standard:humor, 1595 words)
Author: hvysmker	Added: Dec 08 2005	Views/Reads: 3561/2340	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
From a prompt on another site. I thought it cute. I have to thank my old buddy Oscar Rat for his part of the story, that and buy him a ten inch pepperoni pizza.

Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story


"She has a lot of good suggestions that save money and time." 

"Maybe 'how to please your lover by fixing breakfast' or something like
that?" 

"Oh, shut up, baby.  I'll get breakfast.  Now where's that flour?  I
need it for our breakfast pizza." 

"Women are so damn lazy these days, not like when I was a kid.  My
mother had to grind her own wheat to make her own flower with her own 
paws."  I can hear Malodor banging pans around in the kitchen.  "While 
she was doing that, us ratlets were out in snow like we got outside 
now, milking Bessie the cow so she could finish breakfast.  Nowadays 
all you women gotta do is reach in a refrigerator and pour the stuff."  
I shake my head in wonder at all the changes in modern society. 

"I'm glad you feel that way, Oscar baby.  We're out of milk for
breakfast.  Seeing as you like the 'good old days,' why don't you step 
outside and find some milk?" 

Uh, oh.  "I'll go over to Charlie's and get Nancy to do it." 

"No you won't.  That little girl's got a bad cold.  You get it." 

"We got any canned milk?" 

"Get dressed." 

"Maybe Charlie's got some?" 

"He don't drink it, get your ratty ass moving." 

"Okay, okay.  I'll get it.  You don't have to raise your tail." 

I'll show her I'm still a tough old rodent.  I'll walk the half-block to
the store.  Us old guys still remember the good old days.  No problem.  
Just as soon as I change the batteries on my thermal underwear and 
socks. 

Oscar Rat 

*** 

Wham!  Wham!  "Uncle Charlie."  The pounding on my door wakes me from a
sound sleep.  Three naked nymphs vanish as I'm jerked back to 
wakefulness. 

"Who . . . who is it?"  I mutter, knowing darn well it's Nancy Skunk.  A
bachelor, nobody else calls me Uncle Charlie.  At least for quite a 
while. 

"What you want, Nancy?" I yell from the bedroom, wishing she will go
away so I can get back to sleep.  Maybe the girls will still be there?  
Even if the goat wonders off. 

"I want a writing lesson, Uncle Charlie."  Her voice is clearer, she
must have another key, or squeezed in through Oscar's latest rathole.  
I keep plugging them up, but Oscar only gnaws new ones.  He says it's 
for my own good, that he can save me if there's a fire or something.  I 
think it's only so he can come in and drink my booze when I'm not home. 
That and sneak peeks at my computer files. 

Last month my "F" drive was getting full.  I found a hidden directory
filled with pictures of naked skunks and other rodents.  Of course, old 
buddy Oscar didn't know anything about it.  Ha! 

"Get up, Uncle Charlie.  Let me fix you breakfast while you get
dressed?"  She slams the bedroom door on me. 

I hurry to get up, slipping on my trousers, not bothering with t-shirt
or socks.  I have to get to the kitchen before Nancy gets started.  
You've never eaten her cooking.  Take my word for it and don't ever, 
but ever, let a teenager fix your breakfast.  She screws up a cup of 
instant coffee. 

"Wait, Nancy.  Hold it!"  I stop her before she can shove a ball of
crushed bread into the toaster.  It wouldn't have burnt anyway, since I 
can see the power's off. 

"That's okay, Nancy.  I feel like buttered bread, no toast.  Why aren't
you in school today?" I ask. 

"Canceled, causea' the snow." 

"What snow?  It wasn't supposed to snow last night."  I look outside,
"Why, what happened?  There must be at least ten feet of snow out 
there."  I can't believe it.  And I have to go out later. 

I can see a half dozen little mice having fun, building snowmen in human
shapes, then taking time to paint them yellow with mouse pee.  One of 
them, Jimmy Meescoski, looks up at me and waves.  Sandy Squirrel stands 
under her tree home, shaking her fist at her worthless unemployable 
husband.  She's covered with snow, some of it yellow. 

Feeling whiskers touch my cheek, I turn my head, almost bumping into
Nancy.  She's also watching the mice. 

"Ahhhhchoooo," I get it full in the face. 

"Sorry. I gotta cold," Nancy tells me needlessly, sniffling, "and
school's been canceled.  Now you can give me a writing lesson.  I wanna 
be famous like my Uncle Oscar." 

Seeing a motion outside, I find Oscar Rat approaching the building.  At
first it's hard to recognize him.  He looks like a bright purple 
basketball, on fire.  In cold weather, Oscar wears six sweaters, at 
least two coats, and his battery operated underwear.  Steam from his 
undies drifts above his stumbling figure, shimmering like smoke, with a 
plastic shopping bag sliding behind him. 

Not hungry anymore, I join Nancy, now engaged in trying to move the
monitor aside.  We have to make space to shove the keyboard back, 
otherwise she can't stand on the desktop to use it. 

"Don't bother, Nancy.  There's no power.  We have to use my laptop,"  I
tell her, getting it out of the corner where it's connected to the 
charger. 

We start to work, me instructing her on the finer points of using the
letters "F" and "G", along with the number "4," from yesterday 
morning's sesame street television show. 

At least she no longer grasps my wrist with her tail or backs up,
pushing her tush into my face.  Nancy used to have a teenage crush on 
me but now reserves that conduct for her boyfriend, Andy Aardvark. 

We continue for awhile, until I hear cursing outside.  We look back out
to see Oscar's done shopping.  He's standing outside waving his paws, 
trying to chase mouse children while pulling his shopping bag with some 
groceries or something in it.  Meanwhile, the young mice are throwing 
yellowish snowballs at him. 

"Oh.  I gotta go now, Uncle Charlie.  Aunt Malodor will have breakfast
ready." 

Nancy hurries out the door, slamming it behind her.  I stare at the
computer, wondering whether to start work or go back to bed. 

"Achoooo."  I sneeze, nose leaking.  Damn it. 

Charlie


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