Heather was going to go snowshoeing. That was the plan, at least, and she had her mother in tow to make sure that she didn’t get buried in an avalanche.
Of course, avalanche danger wasn’t really the problem. Because there was no snow.
She drove and drove, and on occasion she would see a small patch of snow on the north side of a hill, but always too small. One time she saw six does on the side of the road, staring at her, and she thought about asking them if they had seen any snow lately.
As she was driving, she didn’t notice as the great fiery beast stomped into the road in front of her, mostly because she was texting on her cell phone like an idiot.
The beast reached down and picked up her car. He was about to eat them up whole when Heather yelled, “Wait!”
The beast stopped. “What do you want?” he asked.
“I want to go snowshoeing,” Heather said.
“Not today. Today, I’m going to eat you.”
And so he did. But it turned out that in the belly of the fiery beast, there was a tropical resort. And Heather decided that she didn’t want to go snowshoeing anymore.