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Abstract

met, and I ponder what caused her fickle attention to fixate on me.With the innocence of a three-year-old, she asks me,“Do you know Frosty the Snowman?”I stammered, caught off guard by the question. “Uhhh, he has a corncob pipe and three buttons made out of coal,” I squeak unconvincingly.“No, he doesn’t!” She screams.The man in her life saunters down the fence line to stand closer to us. “Frosty actually does. It’s a verifiable fact.”She responds with a surprising amount of disbelief.“No! His nose is a carrot.”The carrot sounds familiar. I honestly can’t remember. Trying to broker peace, I rack my brain for other facts about the mysterious musical snowperson of my childhood. “He has a big hat?”She reluctantly agrees. In unison, we declare,“It’s a to

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p hat.”She visibly relaxes, seeming satisfied with my answer. Then I see her petite hands holding a snowcone. Some flavor monstrosity called Tiger Blood.Is that? Could she? OH DEAR GOD!She laughs her childish laugh as melted remnants of our beloved Frosty dribble on my leg.Resigned, I mumble.“Do I know Frosty?Not anymore.”<h2 id="dd70">The end</h2><h1 id="f1b3">Footnotes</h1>¹ Full disclosure, this was an actual experience I had last weekend with my friend Graham and his capricious toddler. Our conversation was so unexpected I thought it would be fun to share dramatically without revealing the characters’ ages. How did I do?<a href="https://medium.com/@workplaysol/membership">Join Medium here</a>, and I get some extra pennies. Click the new tip button, and I get 200 SmillewCoins.</article></body>

Short Story Humor

Mysterious Stranger at the Football Game

An unexpected evening of innocence and villainy

It is the second quarter of our local college’s football game, and the home team is up by ten points. I’m seated in a lawn chair beside my wife and two kids enjoying the peaceful night air. I try to explain the rules of football to my oldest daughter when we are interrupted.

A mysterious stranger¹ appears with her man in tow. It’s clear from the haphazard looks she sends in every direction that she does not find the man in her life very interesting.

Instead, she walks up to me with the fires of challenge in her eyes. I hide a smirk, having no idea what will come from her mouth. We’ve never met, and I ponder what caused her fickle attention to fixate on me.

With the innocence of a three-year-old, she asks me,

“Do you know Frosty the Snowman?”

I stammered, caught off guard by the question. “Uhhh, he has a corncob pipe and three buttons made out of coal,” I squeak unconvincingly.

“No, he doesn’t!” She screams.

The man in her life saunters down the fence line to stand closer to us. “Frosty actually does. It’s a verifiable fact.”

She responds with a surprising amount of disbelief.

“No! His nose is a carrot.”

The carrot sounds familiar. I honestly can’t remember. Trying to broker peace, I rack my brain for other facts about the mysterious musical snowperson of my childhood. “He has a big hat?”

She reluctantly agrees. In unison, we declare,

“It’s a top hat.”

She visibly relaxes, seeming satisfied with my answer. Then I see her petite hands holding a snowcone. Some flavor monstrosity called Tiger Blood.

Is that? Could she? OH DEAR GOD!

She laughs her childish laugh as melted remnants of our beloved Frosty dribble on my leg.

Resigned, I mumble.

“Do I know Frosty?

Not anymore.”

The end

Footnotes

¹ Full disclosure, this was an actual experience I had last weekend with my friend Graham and his capricious toddler. Our conversation was so unexpected I thought it would be fun to share dramatically without revealing the characters’ ages. How did I do?

Join Medium here, and I get some extra pennies. Click the new tip button, and I get 200 SmillewCoins.