Hair Conditioning
The popsicle is the perfect thing on a hot day like this one. Even better are the bursts of snow and icy wind that come with each slurp. They don't go away. If anything, they get longer - and colder - as the popsicle shrinks. You're almost worried at first. Do they make hallucinogenic popsicles? If so, why? Eventually, though, you think of a simpler explanation: the popsicle is just reminding you of the frozen North because it's really, really cold. And white. You still can't tell what flavor it is. Mint? Not quite. The taste keeps reminding you of snow, but no one makes snow-flavored popsicles. After all, snow is just frozen water.
<br>
Halfway through the popsicle, you find yourself walking through a world as much winter as summer. Each gust of snow and ice lasts as long as the heat waves in between. It's too much; you're starting to get chilly. You almost stop eating. At the next lick, though, the popsicle changes directions and sends a wave of warmth over you. The cold feels no worse than it would through a jacket. Three more licks, and the warmth comes with camouflage; your arms turn white and fluffy every time the world does. The snow feels good on your bare feet. You could have sworn you had shoes on before, but the baking sidewalk says otherwise. That's all right. There's less and less of it the farther you walk.
<br>
Finally, there's nothing left of the popsicle but a blob of white on the end of the stick. You're having a hard time holding it anyway. You bite off the last piece of popsicle, leaving tooth marks in the wood, and lick the mangled stick clean with a very large tongue. It falls from what used to be your fingers and lands in the snow. You grunt happily and drop back to all fours.
<br>
That's when your head clears and you take a look around. The summer street you were on has changed a lot in the last ten minutes. There's a blue sky overhead, white snow all over the ground, and white fur all over you. The horizon stretches off into the white distance. Lumps of ice stick out of it here and there, worn into strange shapes by the wind. Some of them are almost the size and shape of houses; you could almost imagine you were standing on a street...but not quite. Normal streets don't have confused polar bears on them.
<br>
Somehow, you've gotten a long way from home.
Written by Chrysalis on 13 June 2009
The end (for now)