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Destiny City has had a few experiences with snow so far, but no one can argue that this most recent snow is the best for building snowmen. It's on a weekend, and the weather is just perfect. Many have dubbed today the city's unofficial 'Build a Snowman Day'. Snowman, snow sculpture, snow angel--whatever you want to make, have fun with it! Young or old, take some time to appreciate the little things and connect with some good old, basic, winter fun!
Max, or, as his mother was currently calling him over the phone 'Maximilian Rufus Tristian Gaspard' was not a very creative child. Boy. Young man. He had been enrolled in a local creativity group for youths by said mother in an attempt to ensure her son got 'the best' experience out of winter and that he would 'exhibit some form of creativity outside of his bed room'. And now, there was a lot of things Max figured he could say to his mother about that, (many of which were entirely not suited or appropriate and entire inaccurate given the poor boy's love life or rather lack there of), but max was a good child. A dutiful son. He kept his mouth god damn shut because holy mother of god his mother was a hell cat of a woman who would have ripped him apart and spit him out faster than he could count if he even so much as breathed in the direct of her person incorrectly at the wrong moment in time and not without having eaten an entire tin of altoids mints whole.
Max was a dutiful son.
WHo held a very real deep seated fear of his mother because she was just his mother. One of those types that you assumed only existed on TV until you met one in person and then started questioning if this was reality of just a big computer simulation like those science theorists were going on about.
Max tried not to think about the moral implications of being an Artificial intelligence program but none of this really mattered for you see. In fearing his mother, max had no way of rejecting her telling him what he would and would not do with his winter break. Which would include standing awkwardly in the cold at 7 am in the morning dressed more for fashion and motherly appeasement than for functionality. He was very cold and knew his toes were getting slowly wet which would get them even more cold and he'd suffer for it later.
Thanks mom.
The group of young kids his age and younger, mostly younger, (by a good ten years on average), gathered around the instructor while all their rich middle upper class sub urban mother watched on, expecting something perhaps like they had seen in some professionally shot bullshit magazine for traveling places. No, Max and the kids were going to make ******** snowmen, or as max would have a tiny rebellion and make a snow woman.
He was joined in his silent ******** you to their cliche Martha Stewart mothers by some girl who was maybe nine and a boy his age who wore so much black he might as well have just been called the anti winter camo.
Twenty minutes into his lopsided snowman, three balls high standing at a good 4 feet, they began to add the final touches. Eyes, arms, a bullshit excuse for a nose.
Then came the boobs. The snow tits.
Watching his mother silently fume and know she couldn't say or do anything was in a small wall. A tiny Christmas gift to himself.
