Dreams Never Die

Blizzard

Autumn was finally here. The hot, Texan summer was done with, and the slightly cooler autumn was dawning upon the small town of Pumpkin Heights, falling down along with the colorful leaves. Blizzard is raking the crunchy foliage, preparing to depart from his home the next morning.

His brown hair fluttered a little with the wind, and his dark brown eyes were always deep with thought. He was fairly thin, as he was always laughing and using up much energy. He was also very funny, as all of his many friends told him several times over. He was sarcastic at times, but he always apologized if he hurt someone. He was very compassionate. He loved everything as it was, no doubt about it.

As he finished his last chore for the day, he skipped to his front door, overcome with the joy of seeing his friend Shwabbits soon. He pulled at the knob, flung the door open, and marched inside. He checked the clock. 5:47 pm.

"Only 14 hours and 13 minutes more before my flight takes off! I can't wait!" Blizzard said exuberantly. He rushed into his room, and found his black and yellow cat, Mr. Mittens, lying down on his favorite red sweater.

"Get off it, you're gonna get it all dirty! C'mon Mr. Mittens, let go of my sweater. Now rea----LET GO!"

Both Blizzard and Mr. Mittens go flying in opposite directions, accompanied by a loud, sharp, ripping sound. Blizzard is lying down, his back against the floor, half of a blood red sweater in his hands. Mr. Mittens gets up, the other half in his teeth, and strolls over to Blizzard's half-dead body. He then begins to lick his face with his sandpaper tongue.

"Ouch, get off! You're getting me all wet!" Blizzard grunts. "I need it for my trip!" He then proceeds to pick up Mr. Mittens, elbow-drop him, then throw him from wall to wall. Mr. Mittens gets back up, wobbles his way back to Blizzard, and presumes licking his face again.

"I told you to quit it, you dumb cat!" Blizzard yells, and punts him out the back window of his house. A last, dying screech is heard from the backyard. Peace and quiet.

He peers out the window, then continues to pull out a bulky suitcase from his minuscule closet.

He rips his drawers open and starts tossing out a variety of things: shirts, pants, boxers, socks, hats, pens, paper, crack, erasers, toothpaste, a comb, soap, and several other materials. He somehow then manages to shove it all into his bag, giving a few hard pushes to keep it all together.

"That should do it," Blizzard says triumphantly. He then drags the suitcase out the door, moving about 3 inches a minute, and into the trunk of his golf cart. Then, he hops on his sofa, and dozes off for a few hours.

**********

Blizzard wakes up, and strolls into the backyard and looks around. He spots a fur coat, and proceeds to pick it up. It starts to shiver, and Blizzard jumps back in fake fright. A drowsy Mr. Mittens emerges from a pile of trash, getting sloppily to his feet.

"Let's go, you spastic rat!" Blizzard yells, and yanks the cat by its tail. He drags the clawing feline into the golf cart, and straps him to the seat. Then Blizzard jumps into the drivers seat, accidentally running over a few mailboxes on his way to the airport.

* * * * * * * * * *

"We don't allow pets in the seating area, sir."

Blizzard has arrived at the airport, with several dents in his golf cart. He is sweating and panting heavily, with a smelly, damp ticket held in front of the flight attendant's face.

"Sir, you will have to move your...pet...with the rest of the luggage."

Blizzard disregards the attendant's instructions, and proceeds to enter the seating area.

"Sir..."

He grunts obnoxiously, then drags his luggage into the boarding zone, without a word, and throws his suitcase and Mr. Mittens onto the conveyor belt. He then stomps his way back to the flight attendant, and sticks out his tongue. The flight attendant calls security, and he is escorted onto the plane.

"Wow, I like these muscles you guys have, very large, nice fashion statement!" Blizzard exclaims. The security guards look at each other, shrug, and throw Blizzard into the fourth class area. Yes, such a class exists.

Blizzard sits in the area by himself, with only one window to look out while he ponders his life.

"Shwabbits, oh satan!" he screams out with excitement. When he arrives at the airport in New York, if all goes to plan, he will be picked up by Shwabbits, then he will spend the night at his house. There, they will prepare for the party that will be occuring within the next week; an annual get-together of friends and acquaintances.

"Well here we go," Blizzard says tiredly, dozing off, as he still has 3 and a half hours left before his flight arrives at JFK Airport.