Winter.

 It's cold in this cave.
 I'm in a cave, you understand, in the cold. The snow, in fact. I've been travelling up hills in the snow recently, mainly because it seems like good, safe fun. Anyway, as usual, I've become trapped in a frozen cave by a blizzard. Snow it piled up around the cave mouth, and I think some yeti are pointing and laughing at me from a much warmer cave across the way.
 I've managed to start a fire. It's a small fire, and frankly, I wouldn't use it to try and impress a woman or seduce a lamb or anything like that. But still, it was doing its duty and keeping me alive. Then, outside, a noise! A dog, barking, help?
 Something appeared at the mouth of the cave. I could make this description more interesting, but I know you'd like to get straight to action, so I'll just confirm that it was indeed a dog. A St. Bernard's, with a small barrel of brandy around its neck! I was saved!
Sure, it took me a while to roast the dog over the pitiful fire I'd made, but the brandy made for an excellent sauce to roast the mastiff in.
 In which to roast the mastiff, sorry. It's getting cold now, and I used the last of my energy to correct that grammatical error. God help me if I actually proof-read the rest of my blog.
 Was I going somewhere with this? Who knows...

In the real world...

I'm still at home at the moment. Yesterday, I caught my mother encouraging the cat to lick my toast. There's still snow outside, but it's starting to melt. I expect this will cause a flood of Biblical proportions. Neptune! I'll get you one day...

A touch of reality

Hi, its me. The real me, not that fictional me who gets up to all sorts of crazy high-jinx and the like. I'm shorter and more boring, although I occasionally start fires. I though, since this is a blog, I should trot out some mundane observations about whats going on around me and act as if they're profound. See, I did it there already - looked down on bloggers. What a hypocrite I am. I should be stoned for this. If I was, this would probably be a more exciting read, anyway. But I digress, as I am wont to.
 So, what's in the news this week?
There's been a lot of snow here in Scotland. I've had a foot or so at my house, which is more than usual. Pretty exciting, huh? The weather... Earlier, I watched a pheasant walk across an area we'd cleared, before slipping and face-planting a pile of snow. It was tragic, yet hilarious, like an old person slowly reversing into a midget: His cries of alarm not heard by the deaf octogenarian, his tiny, bobbled head not visible in the mirrors. (Don't worry, he's fine. In fact, they become friends after the incident. Unfortunately, they bond over their white supremacist theories, and the world would have been better off with one more dead midget and imprisoned grandfather)
 A foot of snow... Seems a lot to me. Down in England, they've got less and have ground to a standstill, I hear. Of course, the Scot is quick to seize on this. "Bah!" He shouts, "4 inches? That's nothing. This morning, it came up my ankles! Why, I'll have to snorkel the cat before he goes out to do his business!"
 Yes, we have it far worse than the mockable Englishman, and thus have a right to boast. Of course, there're countries in the world with far more snow, far more of the time, which cope much better, but they don't count. I remember a Canadian friend telling me how, in worse conditions, he nearly cut his arm off with a chainsaw, and was chased by a bear.
 But we have it worse.
 I should probably start a facebook group, they can sum up my emotions far better than I can.

Concerning Zebra

It was getting bright, and I was hurrying to get home - There's nothing suspicious about a man being out all night, I'd just been robbing bakeries, that's all - when I noticed something wasn't right. Snow... Well, that wasn't unknown in November, of course, but it hadn't been in my drive earlier. Furthermore, it hadn't snowed recently. I should have kept going, into the safety of my house, but instead I stopped like a fool.
Slowly, like the zombies in Thriller, 4 zebra rose from the ground. Their black stripes painted white, they had been able to hide in the fake snow filling my drive quite convincingly.
 "Bonjour." Spoke the ringleader, "The Colonel sends his regards."
With that, he slapped me to the ground with a hoof.
 "We will return soon, mes ami. Au Revoir."
Laughing, the zebra walked past me and into the distance. I knew I couldn't escape my days in Africa this easily...

It's not easy being small. Norman had always protested it was a heartbreaking birth defect, but he was secretly a Rice Krispy Guy. However, he'd failed his aptitude test at the end of High School, and been unable to follow in the family business. Shunned by his demanding father and his brothers - especially Snap - he had entered a career in marketing. He led a rather successful career, but unfortunately his bosses had been embezzling his pension fund over the years. Almost broke, Norman spent his last few years populating snow globes, pretending to be an Eskimo, and fighting off blizzards.