Based on the Fenslerfilms original
“Last one there’s a penis pump!”
Mike Smith’s cry of joy shattered the winter silence that blanketed the town of Lakeville like a fresh coating of snow. Mike’s destination was a frozen pond on Old Man Snow Job’s farm. On a dare, Mike and his best friends Bobby and Ricky climbed the fence and sneaked in undetected.
Snow Job hadn’t been seen in town for years; the old folks said that he hadn’t been right since the accident, that he had grown a bushy beard and always wore a hooded parka and goggles to conceal some remarkable facial disfiguration. And worst of all, he hated it when people looked at him while talking.
Bobby and Ricky could hardly believe how their usually slow-footed friend Mike had gotten so far in front of them. “That’s not fair!” they cried in unison as Mike sped away.
“Holy cow, I’m totally going so fast,” Mike yelled as he slid across the ice, his glee barely contained. Since he was the slowest kid in Lakeville, the rare sensation of speed was exhilarating.
Just when Mike didn’t think he could go any faster he lost his balance and slammed face-first into the ice, cracking it and, possibly, his nose. The sound of the skull-ice impact echoed through the countryside like a gunshot.
Writhing on the ice, feeling a mixture of rage, pain and embarrassment, Mike shouted “Aw, f**k!”
Bobby and Ricky reached the edge of the pond and noticed that the ice around their friend was shattering into an ominous, spider-web pattern. “What do we do, what do we do?” they shouted, fearing a frigid doom for Mike. They tentatively crept out on the ice in an attempt to reach their trapped friend.
And all of a sudden HE was upon them, gliding noiselessly on a pair of ancient skis and wearing the bulkiest parka they’d ever seen. How could such a mountain of a man move so quietly? But the quiet was, they soon realized, short-lived.
“Help! Help! What do we do? What do we do?” the frightened boys shouted in unruly unison. The answer they received was not what they expected, or hoped.
“Hey, what the f**k are you kids doing on my f****g lawn?” bellowed an enraged Snow Job at the hapless boys. Bobby and Ricky had been taught that it was polite to look at grownups while being spoken to; however, their frank, penetrating gaze clearly unsettled the shambling giant of a man. Flustered, he spat, “and don’t look at me when I’m talking to you!” They quickly averted their eyes.
Mike continued to struggle and cry for help. Snow Job, unimpressed by his plight, yelled, “Get that kid off my ice, you little wankers!”
Running out of options, Ricky grabbed a fallen tree branch and extended it towards Mike in a final attempt to save him from a freezing death. Snow Job urged him to follow through. “Give him the stick!” the big man cried. Then, just as suddenly, he contradicted himself: “Don’t give him the stick!”
Mike had only seconds to live – the ice was disintegrating. Bobby and Ricky screwed up their courage and looked the madman in the eye.
“What do we do now?” asked Bobby.
“Do you know my dad?” asked Ricky.
Snow Job seemed to ponder their questions. After a moment of intense thought he opened his mouth and sang “Ooooooooooooooooooooooooh!”
To this day they say that the note was A-flat.
This is a field recording from my friend Danae’s apartment + organ + sax. Pay attention to the harmonics revealed in the muzzein’s call.
The replicator makes pork chop sandwiches for no man.
Don’t participate, be lethargic You’re a hypocrite, you’re the target