s.4 random rememberances; snowman massacre of 1904
We were in Minnesota, snow was falling barely all around, melting before it hit the ground. It was near Christmas time, I remember because Olivia wrapped our briefcases in ribbons before we packed them in our trunk. She always did little things like that, to emphasize a certain sentiment, or to bring out some sort of playfulness. I enjoyed it. When we opened our luggage in the hotel room, it was as if everything was brand new. Like it was my first time seeing my old flannel shirts and her first time seeing her thrift store dresses she collected over the years. Seeing anything underneath a Christmas tree, wrapped in paper, or tied with bows and ribbons automatically makes it more appealing, for some reason or another.

Our hotel was on the water, not literally, but pretty damn close. Apparently the view is beautiful in summertime, apparently, but I wouldn't know. From our window all you could see was icicles, like dead teeth, hanging on to a roof that could barely support itself. The hotel was apparently over 100 years old, apparently, but I wouldn't know. It was shelved upon Lake Cuyano, if it sounds made up, its because I can't remember the exact name, but I remember waves and boats and lazy fish that barely grazed the surface as they lept for whatever reasons.

Minnesota was lonely, like a kissing booth you used to frequent or a telephone hung up on it's own existence. There was nothing to do the week we stayed there. One night Olivia and I got drunk and smashed at least 50 snowmen that local school children made in front of the hotel on a field trip one day. Imagine the horror, a mafia of headless snowmen, all lacking wit, carrots and charcoal pieces strewn about purposely leading to a house nearby to suggest they had done it. Afterwards, you couldn't differentiate the snowmen from the snow. I heard the people in town still talk about the massacre today, the great snowman massacre of 1904, its in their text books and newspapers, their streets and sewers.

During the massacre Olivia and I laughed loudly, pedestrians passed by but were too afraid to tell us to stop, we were too drunk to have listened anyways. Olivia liked to give each snowman (or woman) a name and brief history before she kicked them apart. There was,
Randall Callaway; a part time banker and terrible lover. Randall always came much too fast during sex and could never keep a woman satisfied outside of the bedroom either. He chased them away with stupid words like 'golly' and 'whiz'.
Allison Hemton; mother of three and wife of one. Allison was pretty when she was a teenager but never lost weight after delivering her fourth child who died shortly after delivery. [Olivia had a hard time taking off Allison's head, so I had too.]
Robbie Smythly; barely a child, only two snowballs high. Robbie was a fantastic student with an awful lisp. Olivia mocked him as I'm sure his classmates did, 'What's the mattur Whobbie?' she said as she punched his face in.

With only a few snowmen left, I found one that resembled Olivia in the strangest ways. I refused to destroy it. Olivia couldn't believe it. The resemblance wasn't so much in the appearance as it was the spirit. The snowman, standing alone in the corner of the lot, arms raised, head lowered, as if in constant thought, bowing down to its fallen comrades but already moving on, made Olivia cry for a minute or two. She didn't tell me why it struck her so deeply. She insisted on putting the snowmen back together, but I pleaded frostbite and carried her back up to our room. Maybe it was self reflection, seeing herself amongst old friends and moving on without them. Maybe it was because there wasn't a snowman that resembled me standing next to the one that resembled her. Either way, we got up to our room and undressed and she cried on my shoulder in the shower.
Last edited by rushmore at Dec 15, 2009,
there's something magical about these pieces in that I'm starting to fall in love with Olivia. I garned quite a crush on her from your other writings, but I've began to fall in love with her over the course of these pieces. You've managed to create such vibrant life that the reader doesn't feel like a casual observer, they feel like they have an important part within the story that you are telling, a life through your eyes.

Keep em coming
This isn't my favorite one from this series.

The repetition of "apparently" while it can be necessary sometimes it can also become really irksome. I'm probably alone in this but I felt that it did nothing at all as you use similar ideas later on which are effective.

I also felt that this was too detached for me to think "wow that was sad" by the end of it. However there were bits though when I thought you had achieved the perfect balance. In the earlier editions of this story there was that perfect balance, here I feel like you are saying "well then she did this and then she did that" I'm probably alone in this but I feel that going by your usual standard you could have made this more powerful.

It was however clever and I look forward to reading the next part.