it's a dark night, as night tends to be after all...and cold. the moon was trying it's best to wrap itself up in clouds, chasing the sun "brother can you spare a ray?" and it was a night like this, so dark, and so cold - so cold you could hear the squirrels chattering teeth in the tree hollows...so cold the sap was cracking inside the tree limbs and chunks of maple candy was dropping from the sky. that cold. and i had warmed my stomach with linguini and clam sauce. from a can, the clam sauce. and had i taken a moment to check the expiration date on that can, i probably would have a different story to tell. but it was not to be. and i started feeling a little Not Right and figured i better walk the dog Now, before grim creeping death befell me. so i hitched up the leash, put on a Michelin Man layered look, and headed out, telling diva dog this would be her last walk till june, or maybe july, when the weather was better, so she'd better take care of any essential outdoor needs now. anyway, it was cold. and very windy, which in retrospect, should have been an inkling to me about the Dangers that were Lurking. i turned right and headed to the park. listening for coyotes and feeling a little nervous, but figured the clams would kill me slow, and the wild dogs would maul me quicker, so i left it to the fates. i was admiring the brightly reflected christmas lights on the newly fallen snow...Jodie's Texas tree in the window of her house...Stacey's wreath replacing her barn star. and her husband's giant blowup snowman with the spinning thingie in the belly. her husband being the Other Hillbilly on the street. and i didn't recall it being so ...large. and unsteady in the gale-force winds. so large. maybe 8 feet, maybe 12. large. and the wind was whipping like a bastard at this point. and i turned to look down at diva to be sure she was still tethered to her leash and not behind me kite-like and in the air. and at that very moment, her eyes grew very very large. and a silence filled the air beneath the wind. and a strange plastic-y flapping sound grew louder. quickly. and soon, i tell you, i was encased and being violated by a 9-story semi-inflated, untethered snowman with spinning thingies in it's steven king belly. and the thought flashed ever so briefly through my mind that those spinning reindeer were the first victims, and soon i, too, would be trapped, carousel-like inside a 50-foot plastic inflatable snowman forevermore. and as soon as that brief, yet very lucid thought flit through my endorphin-soaked brain, i became aware of a shrieking sound so loud that it covered the sound of the flapping plastic-y sound, and it covered the sound of the wailing gale-force wind. and it was my own sound. never before heard from my mouth, as i had never, believe it or not, ever been violated by an untethered semi-inflated snowman before. as my throat grew raw, diva recovered herself and joined in. i was flat on the ground. she was standing on part of my head, all protective-like. there was a giant, pointy plastic carrot bobbing at her. the clams began to dance the macarena. and i had to pee. but Frosty was undeterred. his tether was wrapped around my boot. hearing the commotion, the hillbilly neighbor came running out. he is, after all, a volunteer fireman. and there he stood in a t-shirt and sweat pants, on this cold night. and he began to laugh. and his stomach, like the proverbial bowl full of jelly, began to shake, all hanging out of his tshirt and over his sweat pants. and when he was able to get himself under control, and just before reaching for my hand to assist me, he grabbed his cell phone - the kind with a camera in it - and took a picture. a picture. of me. and frosty. laying all inflagrante in the street...a street decorated with twinkling lights to celebrate the holy holiday of christmas. and i just know that this picture will Most certainly appear, not on YouTube, but at the Christmas Open House Block Party 4 days hence. i am asking for suggestions on a new location to move to. preferably where inflatable, tethered lawn things are punishable by death. so i hope this serves as a warning....always, i beg you, Always check the expiration date on the clam sauce. mazel tov, y'all. L