Part 1.
It is pissing down snow, and I am sick of it. I stayed over at my best friend Mattie’s house last night.
I knew the snow was coming. The arthritis in my ankles is never wrong. Take it to the bank and cash the check. That’s how right they are.
Mattie has a beautiful fireplace that warms the whole house. Today is a perfect day to sit in front of it, stay warm, listen to Christmas music, and sniff some bourbon later.
The radio said we’re under a blizzard warning for the next couple of days, predicting almost two feet of snow. God, I hope they are wrong and this stops soon.
The house feels drafty, so I open the fireplace doors and throw on another log. Thank God my boy Tim came over the other day and stocked the covered deck with firewood.
Insane Mattie is outside letting her two German Shepherd pups Seals and Crofts, run wild. Damn pups are the only downside to staying with Mattie. She say’s they’re purebred from a breeder up north.
They aren’t. We found the things at the flea market.
She lost her husband a few Christmases ago, and I hate that she’s alone in this big old rambling house. The dogs are company for her, and it makes me feel better knowing she isn’t completely alone.
I’m sure I’m going to have to go chase the old sow back in the house. I can hear the wind whipping around, the temperature is dropping. Plus, one of the pups might get frostbite if they stay out much longer.
Thankfully, I don’t have to go get them. With a flourish of snow and brown and black, all three come hurriedly in the house.
“Lee, it’s colder than a witches titty out there. But you should’ve come out. The dogs had a wonderful time.”
“Mattie, you know I despise the snow more than working a bake sale that Dorris is in charge of.”
Mattie snorts out a laugh. “God, that is bad.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “Well, I am a whole year older now. And get those poor pups a treat, they look starved.”
As soon as I say that, both dogs’ tails start wagging. Mattie heads to the kitchen, dogs in tow. Just as Mattie turns on the kitchen light, the power goes out.
“Well, balls! Lee, you think we blew a fuse?”
I hope that’s all it is. When I walk over to the window, I can’t see much but a white wall of snow. Even the neighbor’s Christmas tree had gone dark.
“No, Mattie, my dear old sow, the town has gone dark. We’ve lost power. So, you know what that means,” I say.
Mattie nods matter-of-fact. “Yes, we must assemble our necessities! I already have batteries for the radio, so at least we have that. I’ll grab the bourbon and glasses. You get the blankets and radio.”
The phone has gone out as well. The state has declared a state of emergency. We are officially snowed in, for the foreseeable future.
We set up shop in the living room, right in front of the fireplace. One dog at each of our feet. The old campfire coffee percolator doing its thing. The radio is playing old Christmas music softly in the background.
The day slowly slips by into evening. Mattie and I haven’t said much, aside from bickering over who’s going to put another log on the fire. When you’ve lost all we have in our lives sometimes being together, knowing another laugh is coming, is enough.
The house is dark, the roar of the fire is loud. I hear the clock chime six p.m.
“Mattie, it is cocktail hour! Grab a couple of glasses, and we’ll listen to the news and have a sniff of bourbon.”
The flashlight flies around the kitchen, and suddenly Mattie appears with two of her best crystal gold-rimmed tumblers. She never breaks them out unless it’s a special occasion.
“Wow, old sow, breaking out the fancy stuff tonight. What’s the occasion?” I say, slightly shocked.
Mattie sits down heavily and sets the glasses on the table between us. “Well, ugly wind bag, we are snowed in. And I found this bottle of Blanton’s, been saving it for a night like this.”
“To easier storms and better days after,” I say proudly.
“Yes old girl!” Mattie says as she pours three generous fingers into each glass.
“Cheers,” we say, and take a sniff.
I cough instantly, that stuff is strong. But it warms you up nicely.
“Old wind bag, I knew you couldn’t hold your liquor,” Mattie says as she sets her glass down, unbothered by the strong bourbon.
Seals is lying at my feet. He looks cold and bored, so occasionally I give him a sniff of bourbon off my finger. Well when Mattie isn’t looking. Now the blasted thing follows me around everywhere. Great. Just what I need, another admirer.
Actually, he’s been nice company.
“Mattie, your dog won’t stop following me. He was at the bathroom door when I cam out!” Get him,” I say as I walk by and pat his big box of a head.
“Lee, you gave him bourbon, what did you think he would do?” Mattie yells from the kitchen.
Oops.
At some point, we both fall asleep in our chairs. The mix of fire, bourbon, and soft Christmas music is a heady combination.
All was fine until I heard the pups stirring in the kitchen. I was so tired and comfortable.
“Seals and Crofts, lay down and go back to sleep,” I mumble, drifting back off.
I hear a soft yelp and scratching, then excited paws running around. Getting closer. But I am to cozy and warm to care.
That was my second mistake.
With love from the town of Silas.
Written by Calden Knox (my pen name and the one you’ll see on my books)
Part 2 next week!
