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July 1, 2005

Volume 3, Issue 1

Welcome to Volume 3.

I came upon this one a very random manner.

What do you suppose they are staring at?

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Comments

"What was he thinking?"

"Must be new to the area or something."

"Has to be. Weather like this, and him driving that. Just dumb."

"Yeah, it's always the same. They move in and don't know what they're doing. Next thing you know we're pulling them out of the ravine."

"It's not like they don't know we're going to get some snow. They just seem to pretend it
doesn't happen."

"And the ruts. You have to be careful about the ruts"

"That goes without saying."

"Can't they figure out you can't survive out here unless you drive a boxy little 4x4?"

Posted by: david at July 1, 2005 4:11 AM · Permalink

Thick as a blanket, unnaturally warm and still on such a cold day, fog rolls down the mountain and settles in the valley. It doesn’t happen every year but we’re ready when it does.

First, the constable closes the roads, letting only a few locals in. No outsiders allowed.

“They’re coming,” Bridget says. “Let’s grab a couple and get out of here.”

Figures begin emerging from the fog, many wearing clothes that haven’t been fashionable for decades.

We’re not sure why the dead are allowed to leave Hell from this valley. But who are we to turn down free workers?

Posted by: Jim Parkinson at July 1, 2005 8:27 AM · Permalink

Earl found Jeb on the mountain road pulled over. He could tell right away that something was wrong. He eased the Jeep over and got out.

Jeb stared down, motionless. The only way Earl knew he was still alive was the wispy trail of breath.

"What is it?" No answer. Earl looked down.

On the side of the road, still freshly steaming, was a pile of dung. Earl guessed it was 6 inches across and 2 inches high.

"What's gotten into you, Jeb?" He finally asked, exasperated.

Jeb answered, "I seen Bigfoot. I seen Bigfoot take a crap right here."

Posted by: Shawn at July 1, 2005 8:47 AM · Permalink

The most significant danger posed by a volcano, as Greg and Shirley were soon to discover, is neither the current of liquid rock that bubbles from the peak and dribbles down the slope, nor the poisonous ash vomited up into the atmosphere, choking vegetation and animal life for miles around. It is instead the pyroclastic flow, the column of superheated air that precedes the lava flow. Clouds such as the one right in front of Shirley's jeep can be as hot as 800 degrees celsius, and they roll into the volcano basin at speeds passing 150kmh, frying everything they touch.

Posted by: G-Do at July 1, 2005 8:57 AM · Permalink

They call him Snow Miser. Or did, once. The mangled body of that beloved winter recluse was discovered early this morning on a northern highway. He died from what a police spokesman described as "a large hole burned through his chest."

Authorities believe this may be the tragic end of a lifelong feud between the Snow Miser and his brother, the Heat Miser. Police noted that the Snow Miser had, on prior occasions, spread his winter wonderland into areas historically controlled by his brother. This may have been the last straw. The Heat Miser is currently being sought for questioning.

Posted by: No One of Consequence at July 1, 2005 8:59 AM · Permalink

The four-wheelers, out to enjoy the last snows of the season on the peaks of Colorado, eased to a halt, vehicles on both sides of the road. Drivers and passengers got out, gawking at the bloody mess in the road near the lead Jeep.

"My God, what is it?"

"How horrible... Is that an arm?"

The sounds of retching off the side of the road. One driver, more courageous than the others, walked over carefully and gingerly poked the finned carcass with a stick.

"It's real, all right," he announced. "It's really gonna be a bad year for shark attacks."

Posted by: hnumpah at July 1, 2005 9:24 AM · Permalink

"STOP THE TRUCK!!!!!! LOOKATHAT!!!!", Stacey screamed, but Ned had already hit the brakes.

The driving rain had magically changed in front of them.

They got out of the 4x4, staring in wonder.
It was snow -- the first snow these Texans had ever seen.

"Ned, it's cold and wet, just like they said."

"And slippery -- those cars ahead are sliding off the road."

"How do they do it?"

"Stacey, it's their weather control system. Satellites, lasers, crap like that.
And look how it goes right up to our border, neat as a whistle. Damned Canadians, keeping all the snow for themselves!"

Posted by: Randy Shane at July 1, 2005 12:56 PM · Permalink

"Why're we stopping here? We're fifty miles from the campsite."

"Couldn't say, Sue. Let's find out."

Exiting their truck, they joined the rest of the Morgan family reunion campout caravan a bit ahead. The temperature gradient was striking. It wasn't the altitude; it was a warm summer evening where they'd parked and snowy winter a few feet forward.

Then they reached the peak of the grade, and saw. A few more yards, and the road...ended. A dirt trail continued couple more feet, then dense forest.

Nobody could think of anything to say.

Then an arrow thudded into a nearby tree.

Posted by: Jeff R. at July 1, 2005 2:22 PM · Permalink

"What the hell is taking so long!", Jim yelled at the windshield. "C'mon, I've got places to be!" He pounded the steering wheel in frustration.

"Calm down honey, maybe there's been an accident. Let's get out and go see."

They both got out of their car and walked up to the front of the traffic jam to see what was up.

"It's just snow you idiots!", Jim yelled at them. "Get back in your cars and get moving."

He turned to me in disgust. "Sometimes I hate living in Southern California. We have the worst drivers in the Goddamn world."

Posted by: Gahrie at July 1, 2005 8:18 PM · Permalink