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November - Snow Chains

She got in to the car and just shivered for the first several miles.  I didn't try to engage her in conversation, it would have been pointless, I could literally hear her teeth chattering together as she clenched and unclenched her jaw, trying to control her shivering body, trying not to give in to that painful transition from almost frozen to over-heated and desperate for fresh air.  People from the south, meaning anything on the Mexico side of Portland, just didn't understand what it meant to be cold.

Folks in the East got it.  They got it real good, Especially those poor bastards in New Jersey who lost their homes and then got fucking snowed on.  What kind of messed up joke is God trying to pull on those lost souls?  Maybe it was heavenly retribution for the travesty of last Tuesday he thought to himself.  He felt his hands grip the steering wheel ever tighter as he fought back the frustration.  Maybe God, if he’s even paying attention anymore, thought it was a real laugh riot, putting that nice boy Mitt through the wringer and then pulling the rug out from under him.

His breathing deepened and he started to see delicate plumes of steam cover the inside of his windshield and he realized that it was him and that he could barely see through the fog. A strange gurgling sound distracted him on the right and he remembered he wasn't alone.  His new passenger stared wild-eyed out the front window.  She raised her arm, pointing at something and started to scream but it was too late. 

“A moose typically weighs between 900 to 1500 pounds” he thought as his world exploded in to ice, glass, and screaming metal.  “Standing over 6 feet tall, their long legs put their body mass high enough to go over the hood of the typical American car.”  He smelled blood and shit and rawhide and fear. “They survive mostly on terrestrial vegetation.” He wondered why he was narrating a National Geographic special while dying.

He wasn't sure if he heard or felt his left thumb snap back in an entirely unnatural way, but he knew before his brain could admit it that it was a goner, right down to the joint.  In the final freeze framed seconds of his life, he watched a sliver of glass tumble wildly in the frigid air until it impaled itself one fraction of an inch at a time into the bare skin between his glove and his coat jacket sleeve.  “I’m wearing gloves,” he thought, “at least they’ll be able to find my thumbs.”

In the final lightening round crescendo of he heard her scream.  Her voice was thin and delicate compared to his low death bellow, and he thought it sounded like someone dropped a wind chime made out of ice and hard spun glass.  Then, in a silent explosion of noise, he introduced himself to moose flesh at 50 miles per hour.




The pine tree stuck out from the side of his bedroom wall at a 90 degree angle and made it hard for him to stand up.  His feet moved but found no purchase, in fact, they found no floor at all, and he kept losing his balance and was stuck under his blankets as he bizarre dream kept him tangled in out of leaning pine trees and a growing sense of frostbite.  “Fuck it.” He said, and allowed himself to push the snooze button one more time, but in his dream, the clock was gone and his thumbless hand landed in a patch of pink snow.




He woke up again but this time it was different.  The pine trees were gone, replaced by scraggly metal lodge pole pines stripped bare of needles, adorned by large hanging bears with strange markings on their chests.  He slept again, wishing the dreams would end.




His back hurt, his hand were muffled, his head hurt, and his eyes were being burned by a light that kept dancing away.  He tried to swat the bothersome light away but his arms were stuck to his side and he heard the faint rattle of small metal and he gave up and just tried to think.

He heard voices in his dream, deep worried voices that frightened him, precise voices that gave him comfort by their command, and the tinkling bells of a voice that sounded like a wind chime.  When the lights went away he tried to open his eyes again and they creaked like ancient barn doors letting in the light after a long hard winter. 

The trees resolved in to IV stands, the bears turned back into bags of saline, and the small metal was at the end of sturdy leather straps that held him down to a hospital bed in Nome, Alaska if the CPR chart to his right was to be believed.  It was all a blur, but a logical blur, and he felt his heart calm down.  The dream was over.

He laid back down and stared at the ceiling trying to remember.  A storm, a broken down car, a passenger, and, Oh, that’s right, a passenger and a moose.  A big fuckin’ moose.

He heard the door to his left open and shut, letting a burst of muted light illuminate the room and then vanish again.  A body walked towards him and he tried to focus, but the gunk around his eyes and the medicine in his veins made it difficult to see anything.

She stood next his him and patted his arm gently, stroking the large bandage that covered his left hand.  Her voice cracked as she whispered a thank you again and again. “I don’t know what I would have done out there if you hadn’t come along.”  She stoked his bicep and his cheek, “the storm caught me by surprise and my summer tires were still on and….”  She broke down and kissed him on the forehead.  “How can I ever thank you?”

She stood next to him, a whirlwind of grief and fragrance.  Her hand stroked his face, his chest, and then, after a pause, moved lower.  He thought he was dreaming again, thought that the medicine had tripped another lever and that he wasn’t right anymore, but the IV stand was not a tree, and no bears hung from its branches.  He felt the thin hospital sheets moving downward.  The cool air of the room tickled and he tried to raise his hands to stop her, but the leather insisted that he stay still, and the tubes and wires compelled him to lay down.

Her hands were small and her mouth was warm, and he hoped that his heart monitor’s increased pace would not betray him.  “I may only have one chance to thank you properly” she said between long deep licks, “so I’m going to take it.”

She enveloped his hardening shaft with one breath and held him as he grew insider her mouth.  His blood pressure came up and his head pounded  but he prayed that she would not stop.  Fully erect now, he felt her begin to move.  Her lips fit perfectly around his shaft.  Her tongue danced and swirled around his turgid head, at the top of each stroke she release him and whispered her breathless thank you, and then buried him in her throat anew.  Up and down, perfectly timed with his feeble hips, she milked him for all he was worth.  The leather held him down, isolating him from the pleasure he felt and he gave in to her offering.

Thank you

Thank you

Thank you

Her rhythm never stopped until her voice cracked in a strangled orgasm of her own.  He strained to look down and saw her mouth open, gasping for air as her unseen hands drew out pleasure from within the flannel-lined jeans that kept her body warm in the Alaska air.  She pulled her hand out from inside her pants and began on him again.  No words now, just urgent hungry sucking as she scraped her teeth along his shaft and attacked the head with passion.

He heard himself grunt and stifled the cry as best he could as he exploded in her mouth.  She never stopped and she took all he had to offer.  Steam after stream filled her mouth and she whimpered and swallowed and sucked until he was finished. 

“Thank you” she whispered in his ear, kissing him lightly.  She stepped away and his head began to swim as she straightened her clothes, pulled her hair back in to a tidy pony tail and put on her tell-tale glasses.  The dreams overtook him again and the bears once again hung from the bare metal trees next to his bed.




“Dad! You’re famous!!!”  His little one climbed up on the side of his bed, happy to see his father and oblivious, as only 5 year olds can be, to the bruises, tubes, scars and pain.  “Your famous!”

“What are you talking about little buddy?”

His wife stood next to him with tears in her eyes.  “It’s true.”  She handed him the paper and let him read the headlines for himself.

“EX GOVERNOR RESCUED BY LOCAL RESIDENT”  He looked up at his wife and smiled.

“Turn the page.” She said, "there’s more."

Above a picture of a wrecked Subaru was another headline, “Governor says THANK YOU” in person"

“How was it Dad?  How did you like meeting her?”

He looked up at his wife and smiled as the memory played through his head.

“It was nice Danny,” he felt his cock twitch a little, “but you know, I was pretty drugged up, it was almost like a dream.”

Vote how you want in the ticket booth, given the chance, most of us would take a shot at our favorite Alaskan Governor.

This post is part of a Monthly Theme Post hosted by Prowling with Kat.  Go visit after noon on Saturday (today if you are reading this on Saturday) and see how else joined in.  Her own post went up earlier and is well worth the time to ready.  I with I would have read her's before the election.
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