Cold

The First Day of Spring

Almost everyday at the crack of dawn, Jamie White is reminded to wake up and check the traps by a barrage of snowballs to his bedroom window.

Today was different. For the first time since "The Freeze," ice was melting and smaller plants were showing signs of life.

His best friend Donnie Schuster took advantage of this opportunity by replacing his usual snowballs with slushy mud balls from the tire tracks in the driveway. 

THUD. A slushy mud ball hit Jamie's bedroom window, leaving behind what he would later describe as a shit-smear on the frosted glass.

Donnie cupped his hands around his mouth like a megaphone, "Jamie! It's time!"

"What hell, Donnie?!" Jamie yelled.

He rolled over in bed and pulled the comforter over his face, twisting into a cocoon. He closed his eyes and grasped at the edges of whatever fantasy he was so rudely awakened from.

THUD. This time with more force than the first.

"Whyyy?" Jamie moaned, emerging from his blanket cocoon onto the floor.

After the amount of drinking he had done last night, he looked less like a butterfly and more like a newborn giraffe learning to walk for the first time.

THUD. The brown stain on the window thickened, blocking out the sun — a solar eclipse of shit and glass.

"Fuck, okay, I'm up!" yelled Jamie, as he scrambled in the darkness for a clean shirt and more importantly, a glass of water.

He had fallen asleep with his mouth open so his tongue was a pink prune behind his teeth.

Jamie plodded to the window and opened it. Donnie was busy making his next batch of slushy ammo on the driveway.

"Donnie," he said calmly. "Why the fuck are you throwing shit at my house?"

"The sun has been up for ages!" Donnie shrugged. "I don't know how anyone could sleep when it's this gorgeous outside."

Donnie picked up two of his biggest slushy mud balls and formed them into one big softball-sized one. He held it up next to his ear and spun around three times then launched it like an Olympic shot-putter towards Jamie's face.

Jamie quickly reacted by shutting his window, but the slushy mud ball hit the glass with the force of a cannonball.

The glass shattered, sending shrapnel in all directions. A small piece of glass lodged itself Jamie's left eyebrow while the remaining muddy slush hit him square in the nose.

Jamie saw stars and stumbled backward in pain, tripping over his dirty clothes and falling into the closet.

"Shit..." Donnie said under his breath, walking toward the front door.

Jamie stared at the ceiling and let out an exasperated sigh. It was hard to stay mad at Donnie.

Maybe it was because his curly red hair, puffy winter jacket, and goofy wool sweaters reminded him of old Christmas movies, or maybe because he knew he always meant well.

He heard the door slam followed by Donnie doing his best impression of a sorry person.

"Are you okay?" Donnie shouted from the bottom of the stairs.

Jamie didn't answer.

"Walk it off, it's time to check the traps, I'm starving!"

"Asshole!" Jamie yelled, finally standing up. Still in his underwear, he put on his boots to defend against the cold wood floor and walked downstairs. "You're making the coffee."

"Kettle's already on."

Jamie looked at his reflection in the silver kettle and pulled the tiny piece of glass out of his eyebrow. He looked at the bloody sliver and remembered an old saying— the road to hell is paved with good intention — Donnie was a constant reminder. He had a habit of getting them into sticky situations, frequently making things worse than they had to be, but Jamie digressed.

After all, friendship was scarce at the end of the world.