The Entertainment section of the Times has been lacking lately so I thought that I would write about a story, a story about odd things that happened not so long ago.
Once upon a time, two weeks ago actually, in a cold, cold New York, it was oddly a snowy day outside and I decided to go out and build a snowman.
This snowman looked great, but that was a bad thing as I wanted it to look scary, scary enough to keep the neighborhood brats out of Mama and Papa's yard. What would make him scary? A top hat, of course! But where would I get one? . . . Of course!
Inside of this museum was Abraham Lincoln's top hat and I wanted it for my snowman. After a couple attempts at buying the hat with all of the money I had . . . I failed, so I had no other choice, DEBIT CARD! Still didn't work. A little while later I got the best idea ever - Buy a different top hat and replace the one inside of there with the one I bought somewhere else! It just had to work.
And it did work. I had built one scary snowman. Now it was time to go inside and have a cup of chocolate milk, I thought to myself . . . THEN ALL OF THE SUDDEN . . .
The snowman talked! And claimed to be Abraham Lincoln. This was very strange as I have never encountered a snowman that claimed to be a dead president before, I was wondering why he would come to me of all things, but I stopped thinking about that so I could listen to the dead snowy president man.
It appeared that he had a mission, but what was it? He didn't tell me very easily.
This was getting interesting . . . He's just a snowman with a very deep voice, how was he going to get there on his own? Maybe he would need my help.
"Oh boy!" I thought to myself after he said that. I am the one, the one to haul him around to places so he can talk with old human beings. After a while I said I'll do it, hoping to see a fight and hopefully see him use a ice beam power to freeze them in a giant block of ice then take over the country. This might turn out good, or really, really bad.
To be continued . . . By popular demand . . .
