I can't see ten feet in front of my face.
But it's not cold.
The only thing I truly hate in life, according to my wife, is cold and, as always, she's right. I passionately, ruthlessly and demonically hate cold.
I pull for Hitler against cold.
It's just fog though so I make my way to the Beach and ... I can hear it but I can't see it ... so I stumble through the sand ... ten toes having ten simultaneous orgasms.
I jump because I stumble on a Seagull who has built a fort.
It's not something you see every day so I pause to lean over through the fog and appreciate her craftsmanship.
It's quite the fort, blocking the wind ... it's got a thatched roof and a huge Yule Tide log inside.
"This is mighty impressive," I say to the Seagull who ignores me.
The wind is blowing from the north, the ocean is roaring and the fog's like walking in soup.
"Well," I say standing up, "you got a nice place. Who knew Seagulls are capable of building projects? The Board of Education could use somebody like you."
Blindly I continue towards the crashing waves and before I know my orgasmic toes are cooling down.
"This feels nice," I say out loud to no one, "but I can hardly see the Sea."
My friend Dave Postle pops in my head and I wish he were standing beside me. Dave's blind but recognizes lots of things the rest of us miss. It would be cool to share this experience with him.
But he's not here.
I'm sure he feeling his way around orbs ... or his wife Sandi.
"Okay," I spit. "It's cold," and I turn making my way towards home.
Passing the Seagull's house, she's still standing there, admiring her cleverness ... maybe planning what to serve at the party that night.
Back home my toes are spent.
Not a damn one of them has an orgasm left in him.
So I turn on the hot water in the bath tub, sit on the side and drown the little bastards.
Because if there's one thing I've learned in life is ... your toes should never be cold.
