The snow stung my face and froze my tears. I held the shell of my dear, departed friend. If I hadn’t known any better, I would have thought he just molted his skin. But I knew the horrible truth. He was dead. I weeped to myself, holding his carcass, even though carcasses weren’t exactly very comfortable to hold, especially since it was a shell.
The snow covered pine trees looked solemn with their white, frosted branches. The trees had a sort of defected and limp feel to them, as though they shared my sorrows. A strong wind blew, and the pine trees swayed in the wind. Clumps of snow fell off the branches quietly to the ground. My friend always liked it when it did that. By the second “it” I meant when the snow fell of the trees. I’m not sure what the first “it” referred to, but it sounds right. Oh gosh, I don’t know what the previous “it” refers to either. I’m probably just too sad to think right.
The wind blew harder, and the trees swayed harder. Then the winder kept getting stronger, and the trees soon looked like rubber sticks in the ground, swaying around, touching the ground.
“Stop that,” I told the pine trees. “You are ruining the mood.”
The trees went crazy with their swaying and looked like they suffered from seizures. Seizures of sadness.
“I realize you trees are supposed to be symbols for depression or whatever, but you trees are certainly not doing a very good job,” I scolded the trees. “Besides, you guys are pine trees. Leave the weeping to the weeping willows please.”
The trees stopped their swaying. They stood still. Tall, green, (for the white snow had all fallen off at this point) majestic giants of the Earth, paying their honorable respects to my long gone friend. In silence. And without motion.
Suddenly, a small distance away from the pine trees, the weeping willows began swaying crazily.
“All right, I am sick of this,” I complained. “I will go mope else where.”
I looked at the willows, and they still swayed like that one time when I dropped spaghetti while on a roller coaster. Yeah, like that. Like the spaghetti. Yup. I felt guilty for the people sitting behind me. Or maybe I felt… sad.
I heaved a great sigh, and climbed up onto a boulder. It grew four legs, and stood up.
“Take me away from here,” I told the boulder. “These trees are being very rude. I wish to be emo in peace.”
The boulder grew a fifth leg and started walking away from the trees. That puzzled me. Why did the boulder grow a fifth leg? It made no sense to me. Boulders only needed four legs to walk.
As if it heard my thoughts, the boulder retracted its fifth leg. Then grew a sixth leg.
I shook my fist angrily at the boulder, and said in a warning tone, “You are making my sad day into an aAAAAaaaangry day.”