Snow Day

"Catcher in the Rye" creative writing assignment

         All the kids in that g****mn neighborhood went flying out their doors like birds out of cages when the snow came down. I was sitting in my living room then, watching some stupid documentary about life in the Bahamas or something. Holy hell, the sound of all those doors opening at once sounded like gunfire going off all round the neighborhood. I damn near jumped offa my couch. Since I was up anyway, I went to the door, opened it, and looked out.


         The whole street was covered with white crap. Snow, to the people who like it. I personally hate the stuff. It's just frozen water that hurts like hell when some stupid kid throws an iceball at you while you're on your way to school. Anyway, it was all over the trees and cars and other crap like that. Looks like no university for me today.


         I live alone, you see. Since my parents are stupid rich, they got me this nice brick house about twenty steps away from the university. It was nice and all, but the whole neighborhood is full of snotty little kids who put firecrackers in your mailbox and other dumb pranks like that. Just this past Tuesday, classes were canceled because some kid had built a herd of snowmen right on the only road leading to the university. What dumb schmuck made only one road to the university, I guess I'll never know.


         Anyway, I looked right outside and knew the little terrors were gonna be at my house in about three seconds. We live in New York, so the moment September ends; snow just comes pouring down in buckets. The kids always did stupid stuff like hose water all over my driveway so they could ice-skate on it. Holy hell, its 1967, you little jerks. Why aren't you inside playing with your Tinker-Toys or something?


         So I was on my front stoop, just standing there, feeling sorry for myself, when the worst kid in the neighborhood turns the corner. I can't quite remember his name. Don or Ron or John or something like that. He had his red wagon (with a faded Radio Flyer sticker on it still), and he was pulling it. In it, packed tightly, were enough snowballs to level the Empire State Building. That little jerk must have been up all night, freezing his butt off, just to make those snowballs. I hope he got hypothermia.


         That's the thing that bugs me about John or Ron or Don. He's the laziest kid I've ever had the displeasure to meet, but when he really wants to wreak havoc and make the neighbors sorry they moved here, he puts insane amount of effort in it. I've talked to his mom a few times (I can't remember her name either). She's a pretty nice lady, but she's obviously clueless about how much of a jerk her son is. She just happened to mention that John or Ron or Don was flunking out of school. If he put as much effort into his schoolwork as he did being a jerkwad, he'd put Mensa out of business.


         So while he's rounding the corner, he turns and looks at me. John or Ron or Don's pretty fat too, and he's like only ten. He must eat lard for breakfast. You could make a circus tent out of the coat he was wearing then, some blue canvas one. He just stares at me for about ten hours with his piggy, beady little eyes, and he thrusts his sausage-like fingers into the wagon and pulls out this mother of an iceball. From there, it looked like it was as big as a cannonball. Then he put on this crap-eating grin and just looked overjoyed. His face was turning red. It looked like he was about to pop form excitement.


         He said something then, but if I told you, you'd probably throw this story in the washing machine and put it on deep clean. His voice sounds like nails on a chalkboard. He wheezes all the time too, like one of those things that you squeeze at the fire to fan it. I didn't say anything, though, because I knew he couldn't hit me from where he was. I'd seen him try to play ball with the other kids in the neighborhood. He was always the last picked and when he was pitcher, he'd balk every time and throw the ball like half a millimeter. He didn't have very many friends.


         "Hey, you little brat, If you throw that snowball at me, I'll have your parents on your butt so fast it'll make your head spin." I said. In actuality, I was a little scared. Those iceballs can sting like a mother if you throw them hard enough. I was hoping to scare the little jerk away.


         Of course, he didn't go. He just moved his fat arm back. Like he was gonna hit me from here. I just leaned forward with my eyes closed. What a dope I was.


         Boy, did I miscalculate that kid. That iceball hit me right in the face. I yelled and grabbed my check. Half the goddam blood in my body was running down my cheek. "Ok, that's it!" I yelled as loud as I could. "If you want to play like that, then that's how we'll play."


         I sprang of the stoop and ran toward John or Ron or Don. He was so surprised that he just stood there like the clueless jerk he was. I put my hands underneath the wagon and heaved. That thing must've weighed 2 tons. I could barely lift it. I raised it over my head and looked down at John or Ron or Don. Some of the blood from my cheek was dripping on his coat, but he didn't seem to notice.
         "Throw this!" I yelled, and dumped the whole thing on his head.
         Boy, those iceballs never stopped falling. One after the next, after the next, after the next. John or Ron or Don just kinda collapsed on the ground and let the iceballs just rain down. I could tell they hurt, too, because he was moaning ever so slightly. After like three hours, they stopped. I threw the wagon to the side and it hit the middle of the street with a loud clang. There was a tiny little mountain in front of me. Gee, it was nearly as tall as my waist. I spotted John or Ron or Don's arm sticking out of the mound. I felt kinda bad then. Maybe I had overreacted. So I grabbed that kid's fat arm and heaved. Boy, did he weigh a lot. It was like trying to pull up a rock with a rope around it. Finally, I got him up.


         He just sat there for a while. Then he got up and stumbled around like he was drunk off in the direction of his house. Whatever.


         Maybe I had overreacted. Oh well, it was too late now. I kicked over the mound and went back inside.
         It was colder than a mother in the house. If had been just a little bit colder, there probably would have been icicles hanging from the ceiling. So I went over to the fireplace and chucked a few logs in it. That's why I'm so fit. When I have spare time, I just chop wood for hours on end. I haven't had to go out and get wood since the first semester last year. I lit the logs and sat down on the couch. Boy, can a crackling fire make you feel tried. I kinda dozed off after that.


         When I woke up, it the gray sky was turning dark blue outside. Holy hell, how long had I slept? I looked up at the clock and saw that it was 4:15. That little incident with John or Ron or Don had happened four hours ago. I musta been really tired.
         I got up and stretched. Boy, was I bored. I decided to take a walk. I got my jacket out of the closet. My grandma sends me these hideous hand-knitted sweaters every year, but I just put them on when she comes. There were so many of them, you could probably make a bedspread out of them.


         Anyway, I put on my jacket and went out the door. The moment I stepped out, I was hit with this icy cold wind. Big fat flakes of snow were falling down from the sky. The snow was so high, Goliath would have been buried up to his neck in it. I guess no walk for me.


         I went back and hung up my jacket. I was just about to just go to bed when this huge crash echoed through the house.


         I ran into the living room and was hit with the icy wind from outside. There was a huge hole in my window and all the snow was flying in. A huge iceball was sitting in the middle of my floor.
         I guess what goes around comes around.