I’d just come in from doing choirs and plowing out the road. A winter storm was blowing snow and drifting overload.
I washed on up for dinner, appetite more like a bear. And told my wife we’d be snowed in. She shot a cold, blank stare.
She said, “We’re running low on the essential things we eat.” I knew this weren’t no time to cower down and call retreat.
So, I stretched on my old coveralls. They smelled like coughed-up cud. Then pulled my wool hat past my ears. I could pass for Elmer Fudd.
The wife threw on my thermals, she was scared right to the core, and sporting only boots and long johns, ran right out the door.
I tried to stop her. She declared, “My leggings ain’t no crime. We better get a moving ‘cuz we’re running out of time!”
I cranked up the old Chevy, threw the front in four-wheel drive. My wife let out a sigh and said, “Please keep us both alive!”
We busted through the snowdrifts, sweating bullets from my brow. I knew my Chevy truck would get us to the store somehow.
I could see the Elk Creek Station. Were they open through this storm? And then I saw their welcome light. A place to keep us warm.
But we headed for the shelves and filled our cart with tater chips. Then grabbed five bottles, extra hot, of spicy salsa dips.
A lonely case of diet Coke was sitting on the rack. We snatched it up so quickly that we both threw out our back.
I was sure we had some popcorn stashed away at home, some place. But I grabbed a box of Showtime buttered popcorn, just in case.
Last of all we snagged two gallons of Rocky Road ice cream. And wondered if it might outlast this weather so extreme.
And then I saw a box of chocolate pudding, “Cook and Serve.” I figured, “Buy a dozen. ‘Twas no more than we deserve.”
We carried out our plunder to a blizzard night so black. When the storm let up just long enough to drive our Chevy back.
Our cabin was a welcome sight from driving filled with strife. Thank heaven we are plumb stocked up on the daily “Staff of Life.”
– Bryce Angell
