Troy Burroghs in: The Snow-Head

The Troy Burroghs Adventures [Impressionist-Traveler]

The Snow-Head

I went to some kind of meeting in a huge building in Minneapolis, Minnesota it was about ten-years ago (l992). I just recalled it now for some odd reason, I mean it just came to mind, out of the blue you could say, don’t know what trigger it: anyhow, my son-in-law was there with frozen snow tucked away, sprinkled kind of like, throughout his short thick wavy black hair.

We were in a theater or sorts: when I say ‘sorts,’ I am implying it was a just a big area, not sure what to call it: he was standing in front of me, and I noticed the building was becoming frozen like ice: a big frozen mausoleum, or so it seemed to me at the time.

I stood up in the auditorium, rushed out of it, outside of it: got out of there quick for some reason, than standing across the street I turned about, looking back at the building, and it exploited, yes indeed it did, it fell to the ground, I was thinking I was having flash backs from 9/11, you know you can get that way if you think too hard on some trying event.

Anyways, here I am, standing like a stunned parrot, or peacock looking at the building flat on the ground. Flat, flat—like mud on mud, or white on rice.

As I was thinking, I should say, as I am thinking now on this matter: as I was thinking, maybe, just maybe there was an earthquake, or maybe his hair was so frozen it was freezing the whole building and it cracked from the frozen problem it had, indeed if it was a problem (we are back to my son-in-law’s hair now). I guess the real thing that bothered me was my son-in-law was always bald.

Then I found out the truth today, he was mad at me for not letting him finish the job I hired him to do in my kitchen floor. He must have grown hair, and sprouted ice just to get even with me.

Written 11/2002 and revised and reedited 1/17/06