Canadian Heartstopper

I'll try to make this quick because I've so much to say and only so much time to write it.

Friday was a success.

It started at three when, taking advantage of the fact that Slim was out to winter camp with the kids, Drew, Guy and I parked in front of Slim's house and entered through the garage and straight to the basement, all commando-like, and hurried to inventory, identify and put numbers to Slim's drumset pieces. I drew schematics for layout, while Drew filmed the detailed setup, the junctions, the knobs, the screws, while Guy and Slim's mother folded everything up and wrapped the more fragile pieces in blankets and drapes.

An hour later, we were done packing the drumset up and were on the road. As far as efficiency goes, I was seriously impressed. Two carfuls of metal pieces of all shapes and sizes was a lot of stock.

The party was at Drew's father's place, so we had to leave the island of Montreal and head west into Vaudreuil. I'd left strict instructions to Slim's parents:

-do NOT let him see that his drums are gone
-please make sure he's still hungry for the restaurant
-pack up his sleeping stuff
-don't expect him before late Saturday.

His parents, honestly touched by all the effort we were putting into it, agreed to every term, and promised to give us a warning call as soon as Slim was home.

We reached Drew's place and unloaded the cars, and set up the drums in his basement. By the time we had partially rebuilt it, the phone rang.

It's my Mom.

"CM, Slim just called. He wanted to know if you still intended to take him out tonight."

At which point Drew's phone rang, and he said, "Yeah? Okay, we're coming as soon as possible."

I HAD in fact, told Slim to call me once he got home, mostly to make sure my cover wouldn't be blown, and also to ensure he didn't feel completely wretched about his birthday being 'forgotten'. I was actually impressed by the fact that he HAD called. He hates the phone as much as I do.

"Alright, Mom, it's all good. We're right on schedule."

I hung up, and dialled Slim's number. He answered on the second ring.

"Yeah?"

"Slim? It's CM." I realised that the phone from where I was calling had Drew's home number, and not mine, and feared he had seen the caller ID. To cover up, I casually said, "So I swindled Drew into coming with me. We're both taking you out tonight. Are you still up for it?"

The fact was, of course, that at this point Rick had joined us, and he and Guy were going to stay a surprise until the last possible second.

"Yeah..." Slim sounded very, very depressed.

"Are you okay?" I was worried. I didn't want him to be sad at all.

"Yeah, I just need to tighten this noose around my neck." His voice was serious, but I could tell he was smiling.

"Okay," I say, playing into his joke, "that's cool. Can you do me a favour and make a very complicated knot? I want you to still be alive by the time we get there."

"I'll do my best."

We hung up, and I turned to the others.

"Alright," I summarize for the group, "so he thinks that Drew and I are going to pick him up, and that it'll be just us three. But you two―" Rick and Guy "―will be there too. It'll be his first surprise this evening."

"And afterwards," Drew takes over, my co-organizer for the evening, "we're taking him to Sonny's, where a couple more people might be waiting. And then we'll come back, and the full gang will be there, screaming 'surprise' or something like that."

"Chill," Rick said, and we hurried to the car.

And cussed when we got stuck in traffic.

"Drew, hand me your phone," I said, half an hour later.

Slim picks up after the first ring. "Yeeeah?"

"You're not dead yet, I hope?"

"You're talking to my undead spirit right now, actually."

"Drew and I are stuck in traffic. But we're coming for you. I just need to keep him from getting out and killing the other drivers. But we're coming, so keep working on that noose and make sure not to test it before we reach you."

"I will." He seems to have perked up a little, and I can't help but be glad.

We reach his house half-an-hour later. It's snowing.

"Alright," I say, stepping out of the backseat. Guy and Rick hurry to hide there under a blanket, and I walk to the front door of Slim's house. Drew, the driver, waits patiently.

Slim opens to door and tries hard not to smile. "I almost tried my noose on for real."

"No need," I say, and I grab the garbage bag which his mother hands me, "we're here now. Get dressed."

I cannot believe he didn't see me take the bag, right in his face. The bag, which contains his sleeping bag, drumsticks and pillow, as well as his toothbrush and toothpaste. I cannot believe he didn't notice.

I hurry away, under the pretence of letting him get dressed, and knock on Drew's window to get him to open the trunk, and dump the bag in. Meanwhile, Rick and Guy are squirming to make themselves as small as possible in the backseat, and I vainly try to kick them aside so they'll give me some space. Slim is coming fast, and I'm trying hard to be subtle.

I lean on the car door as Slim reaches my side, doing my best to seem normal.

"Soooo, yeah, I brought him along," and I nod to Drew, who is perfectly calm and poised. Guy stills, and I have space to sit now. "Take shotgun," I say casually.

"Why is the car trunk open?" Slim asks, deadpan.

"Uuummmm, I had to check something." Slam, I shut the car trunk and giggle a little nervously. Slim doesn't notice though, he's busy saying hi to Drew. Thank god.

I push Guy's legs aside and sit in, and close the door. Slim hasn't looked back at the suspicious big lumps in the backseat. Drew pulls back, and the car moves out of the driveway.

Guy and Rick sit up in silence, and we listen as Slim tells Drew about his day. I exchange a look with Rick.

Has he seriously not noticed the intruders??

Extremely amused, I watch Guy and Rick count down on their fingers... before screaming at the top of their lungs.

Stunned, Slim turns in his seat to blink at them. "What the fuck?"

"Haaaaaappeeeeee biiiirthday!"

"Hey," he grins, "thanks guys! I didn't even notice you there!"

"You suck, man."

They stopped once to change the name of 'Denis' street to 'Penis' street with a single mark of Sharpie. The pure immaturity of it was enough to make me roll my eyes.

The drive towards Sonny's was uneventful otherwise. The snow was coming down a lot by then, but we weren't worried. What really worried us was that everyone kept calling us to know what was going on with the party... and we couldn't talk about it in front of Slim. So eventually, Guy got callers to ask him questions he could answer in 'yes', 'no' or numbers. This kept us relatively safe.

Slim seemed pleased to see Sonny's, and seemed even more pleased when he saw Kels, Michelle, Liz and Iva were also there and had made reservations. We ended up sharing a table. I went to sit by Liz, across Rick, but Rick wanted to exchange places... and so I ended up next to Slim. I didn't care much, but it was fun.

At any rate, Slim was really happy. We ate and talked, and took pictures, and he picked up my chopsticks to feed me chicken because he thought I was a loser for not knowing how to use chopsticks. I had to roll my eyes at that, but I had to admit that it wasn't as difficult as I'd thought.

"We should go," Drew suddenly said, and I nodded.

"Where are we going?" Slim said, frowning. We shrugged and used the cover-up we'd planned ahead and which everyone would agree with.

"To Charles'; you know, that bar?"

"Never been there."

"It's on the way to my place; do you mind if we stop by my house so I can get changed?" Drew was smooth and totally calm.

We watched as Kels, Liz, Michelle and Guy drove off ―Guy was to show them the way to Drew's house, but we only said it was because there wasn't a lot of space in the backseat of Drew's car―and turned left on the way out.
Drew turned right, after making a show of dusting the snow off his windshield. Rick and I exchanged glances, but said nothing. Obviously, he meant to give everyone extra time to get into his house.

So we purposely got lost in the snow. It was great, and after a while, Drew did a skidding u-turn on the ice and snow to return home.

Drew's house was quiet when we came in, but a quick run into the basement revealed that a good fifteen people had turned up. We hushed up, waiting for Rick and Drew to hurry on down, and snickered as we thought of Slim's reaction.

'Hey, CM,' Dague asked in a low whisper, 'what do we scream when he comes in?'

Everybody leaned in.

'Um...' I glanced at Drew. 'Um, "surprise", I guess. Yeah, let's go for "surprise".'

'Okay, all good. Here he comes,' Drew mouthed.

...And Slim walked in.

"...SURPRISE!"

To say Slim was happy would be a slight understatement. He frowned, though, on seeing his drumset.

"What're my drums doing here?" He asked, gesturing wildly.

At this point Dague plays a heavy riff on his guitar. "Come on, let's do this, man."

And so they played music for a while, until Drew's dad came downstairs. There was a pause, and Mitch and PB glanced at their beers awkwardly.

The man nodded at all of us, then turned to Slim and Dague, and said, "Hey, guys, why don't you play some Black Sabbath?"

Which made everyone cheer.

Then came the moment of the toast. PB came to stand next to Slim, who was leaning against the wall, drinking, and said, "Hey, everyone! EVERYONE, SHUT UP."

The masses are hard to control, but PB was determined.

"Everyone grab a beer and shut the hell up right now!"

This prompted some laughter, but they quieted down.

"I'd just like to take this moment," PB started with a smile, "to make a little speech in honour of our common friend right here." He slapped Slim's back. "Whom I've known for ten whole years now. And since I met him in fourth grade, it's unlikely anything of importance happened before that. So since this is his day, I'd like to do a short flashback on his life."

So followed a few anecdotes that are too contextual to repeat effectively but which prompted some laughter. At one point, PB wraps it up:

"And so I think we can all conclude that you were a real bizarro. And in the past years," he puts a hand to Slim's shoulder, "you have changed a lot... but you're still as weird. And that's okay because we love you, man, even though you can be a serious basketcase. So this is the time for us to raise our bottles for one of the best guys out there." He turns to Slim. "Slim D., we've been friends for ten years, and I hope many more years of those amazing good times will come up, buddy."

This prompted a wave of 'aaaawwwwwww's in the group, as Slim and PB hugged and grinned.

"IT ENDS TONIGHT," Slim loudly said, laughing, and pretended he'd throw a punch in PB's face, who laughed.

"Die, bitch!"

I gave him the cards, including the one I'd made, and he read them out loud happily, after which he returned to playing drums.

The night passed quickly, broken up by us running into Rick's guest room, screaming and banging on one of Slim's chinas, because it was ten thirty and Rick 'Call Me Princess' K. had already turned in. It was unacceptable, so we made sure he knew it.

Slim had a good couple of beers in his body by the end of evening, and was extremely cheerful, laughing at nothing in particular, cracking up for no reason, screaming "LOVE AND JOY" at all times. He was funny to look at, and we let him do as he pleased, for our entertainment.

Eventually people started leaving, until the only remaining souls were Drew, Drew's dad, Guy, Rick (who was fast asleep and hogging the only guest room, the prick), Slim and I.

So I ended up sharing a couch with Slim while Drew and Guy shared the other, as we settled down to watch a mix of Texas Chainsaw Massacre II (which sucked, in my humble opinion) and Vampire Ecstasy, a second rate German movie about lesbian witches and vampires having orgies in an old castle and having fun in many different ways with candles (yeah, ew).

I would like to mention that neither movie was entertaining for me. But I was so tired by then that it didn't really matter. Slim had slid off the couch halfway through and settled in his sleeping bag looking content and peaceful. One of his hands was fisted near his face, and Drew and I marveled at how cutely childish he looked.

"Oh, look," Drew said, picking up one of Slim's drumsticks and slipping in into Slim's fist, where it stood up as though he were holding it (it was SO cute!), "he's holding his drumstick! Aw, look, he's so cute."

A few minutes later, though, Slim shifted and we disappointedly watched as the drumstick rolled next to him, forgotten.

"Poopie."

"Hey, people," Guy said sleepily from the other couch, "I'm turning in."

"Hm, yeah, so will I," I said, bringing my sleeping bag up to my chin ―we'd all curled up inside them for warmth; it was still cold outside― and settled on the couch Slim had just vacated.

"Okay, well, I'll turn the lights off, folks," Drew said. "Good night."

"Good night."

"G'night."

Slim didn't reply: he was fast asleep.

I woke up the next morning to light pouring in through the small basement windows. Snow had piled up a little, but it seemed quiet. I checked my watch sleepily and saw it was approximately eleven in the morning. I noticed Slim lay awake on the floor, and shot him a sympathetic look.

Sleeping on floors is only fun if it's his bedroom floor. It's all very mysterious. Still, he waved back when I smiled.

"I've been awake since nine," he whispers in order not to wake Guy up. "The floor may be carpeted, but it still isn't comfort paradise."

"I'm sorry," I say, because I know exactly how he feels. Last time I slept over at Rick's, Slim'd gotten the couch and I'd gotten the floor.

He shrugs. "I feel like hell," and I smile at his mussed hair and rumpled clothes.

"Are you hungry?" I ask, feeling my stomach grumbling.

"Kinda. Wanna go check out the contents of the fridge?"

"Sure, but I'll brush my teeth first."

He nods. "Right. And I'll switch my reversible shirt. I don't have any other change of clothes."

At which point he proceeded to remove his shirt ― :) ―and turn it over.

This time, I take a look. A prude I am no more. "Exhibitionist."

He shrugs again. "It's who I am."

Drew was cooking bacon. Guy was roused by the delightful smell alone. So while they prepared breakfast, Slim and I returned downstairs to put his drumset apart again and wrap it up. His father was coming to pick it up, and I helped the two of them load it into the van.

But then Slim asked if he could stay a while longer at Drew's. His father shrugged and said, "As long as you've got a lift back."

Drew swore he'd take both Slim and I home.

Breakfast was beautiful and greasy and tasty. I thanked both Drew and his father for the meal, then returned downstairs to see what the others were up to, only to find they'd just started Star Wars: Episode 3. I HAD to curl up in my sleeping bag next to Slim and watch it with them, you understand. Drew joined us and we finished the DVD, but not without an amazing play-by-play commentary the likes of which made us laugh to tears.

A glance outside showed that it was snowing again. The phone rang. It was Mom.

"Hey, Mom!"

"CM, are you going to come home soon?"

It was three in the afternoon. We'd just been discussing that a Star Wars reel of episodes 4, 5 and 6 would be amazing, but we had to go to the video store to rent them.

"Moooom, I wanna staaaaay..." I whined, laughing.

"CM, I don't know about you but over here the snow is starting to come down pretty heavily. Are you sure?"

"Bah, it's fine."

"Suit yourself. Are you coming home with your own means?"

"Yep."

"Alright then. If anything happens, call me."

"Sure thing, Mom."

Had I known...

"Hey, folks, Episodes 5 and 6 are rented out!" Drew says, half an hour later at the video rental. "Let's rent Spaceballs instead, as a follow-up to Episode 4. Oooh, and this one: Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels."

By the time we returned home, the snow was coming down, a lot, and the ice flakes as they hit our faces stung a little. Slim and I bought celery for Drew's dad, and we then piled into the car again.

"Man," Drew remarked, "this snow is really coming down, isn't it?"

"Yeah..."

I didn't reply. I was eating Reeses, which, if you have never tasted them, are the stuff you only ever dream about. Eat some!

We settled to watch Episode 4, and I was back to curling up next to Slim, who also had his sleeping bag, and we ended up leaning against each other because the couch sunk in the middle.

Mid-movie, I glanced outside through the basement window and saw that the snow reached up to a quarter of the window's height.

At the end of the movie, the snow reached half the window.

I wasn't the only one who noticed. Drew and Slim remarked on the wind speed, as much as we could tell. A real snowstorm was raging outside, and we were curled up in our warm sleeping bags on the couch, watching movies. I usually get all excited or anxious during storms, but this time I felt oddly comfortable.

There was a silence as we watched the snow rage outside.

"... Let's watch Spaceballs," Guy suddenly says, and we laugh.

By the end of Spaceballs, though, we looked outside and saw...

Exactly nothing.

"Guys, I think the house was buried in snow!" Drew exclaimed, mock-panickedly.

Slim and I exchanged a look.

"Maybe we should get going," I mumble.

"Maybe we should."

"You're not going anywhere," Drew's dad said, though, when we finished packing our stuff up. "I'm not going to let you go out there."

We blink.

"Um..." I risk. "Why?"

"I think I see what he means," Guy says. He opens the front door behind us, and a gust of cold wind nearly knocks me off balance. Snow blows in, flying all over the floor and our backs. Guy closes the door with difficulty.

Technically, we've just entered something closely resembling a nuclear winter.

"Well." Slim looks at me, then glances back at Drew's dad. "What should we do?"

"You can stay here another night," Drew's dad says. "I've got supper ready. All you need to do is call your parents to tell them about it."

I glance at Slim uneasily. This was really not in our plans, and it does sound rather ominous.

"What should we do?" I ask softly, and he says nothing, clearly not daring to. Guy and Drew start talking loudly enough for me to prompt again. "I'll stay if you stay," I whisper.

"I don't see that we have a choice," Slim says with a frown, and he casts a glance at Drew's father.

As though to confirm this, Drew's dad adds, "The bridge into Montreal is not safe. With winds like these, you'll just be blown into the river, car and all."

This sounds a little unbelievable, but then the wind picks up and we can hear it howling all around the house ominously. I'm more and more inclined to believe it by the minute.

"Well," Slim says, glancing my way for confirmation, "I guess we ought to stay, then..."

I nod. "Yeah. I mean..."

"I'm sure your mother would love to have you home," Drew's dad says, "But I'm pretty sure she'd rather have you alive."

That certainly sounds scary. Slim and I tense up, but say nothing.

"I'll, um... just call my mom, then..." I say.

"You can use the phone in my office," Drew's dad says. "And if she needs convincing, I'll talk to her."

I shoot one glance at Slim and say, "Oh, no, I'm sure she knows I'm safe."

"Exactly," Drew's dad agrees. "Now go on. Supper's ready."

"Uh-huh."

A long explanatory call to Mom later, I come back downstairs and see the guys are serving themselves spaghetti and homemade sauce. Slim seems to be a little upset, and we exchange a look. I can tell he's not scared, but he's bothered by the situation, and dislikes a little unidentifiable something, just as I do.

The discomfort soon dies out and we eat in relative silence, Drew and Guy and Slim and I. We watch snow tornadoes shaping in Drew's backyard, watching as the ice and wind batters the outside walls.

I'm about to suggest something when Slim, across the table, looks at me and says, "Wanna go outside too?"

I laugh. "Yeah, I was about to suggest that."

"Oh, definitely," Drew says, leaning back in his chair. "There is no way we're passing up on this."

"But first we have to call Rick and wake him up," Guy says, and we snicker.

"Done and done," Drew says, whipping out his cell phone. "... Hey, Linda, can we talk to your son? ... Asleep? Oh, damn..." He winks at us. "... Yeah, no, it is an emergency... Yeah... Okay, great, thanks Linda. ... Hey, Rick! Hey, man, did I wake you up? ... Oh, good, we were hoping we'd wake you up... Yeah, no, Guy, Slim and CM are still stranded here because of the storm. We're about to go into it. We figured you'd want us to wake you up to tell you." He laughs. "It's nothing personal, Princess, but damn, you have got to wake up. It's only nine thirty!"

He hung up, and we cracked up.

Drew's dad lent Slim and I snowpants and gloves and boots ―we'd been wearing running shoes until then― and the four of us, crazy as we are, walked out into the storm voluntarily.

I would have to say that we dredged in the snow and woods near Drew's house for approximately an hour. At many points, the snow came up to my waist, and wasn't solid enough for me to walk on its surface, meaning I'd sink into it with every step I made. If Drew and Slim hadn't been there to help me out of the snow pits, I'd still be out there.

We climbed a hill and sat on the summit, listening in silence to the wind howling around us in the leafless trees. One cannot understand the sound a snowstorm makes until they've heard it, and its vast emptiness, its almost sinister voice, and its soothing but eerie beauty. We heard it on the hill, among the dead, leafless bushes and their branches full of snow.

"In the summer," Drew said softly, his voice muffled by the falling snow ―like winter doesn't want loud sounds― "This pleace is beautiful. These bushes have bright red leaves all year long, and they look like domes of fluttering red. With the green and yellow of the leaves in the trees there―" he points to the high, thin trees overhead, "―and the pale blue sky, it's like it's autumn all year-long."

At this, Slim and I smile. Drew is a bit of a closet nerd. He reads fantasy books and so he has a very large vocabulary, and often uses words people don't expect him to use. He's a secret romantic and bookworm. I once heard the guys say that he reads even more than I do. If he didn't have other annoying ways, I would think him a good rival for Slim.

"Can you hear that?" Guy whispers, his nostrils flaring as he breathes in the cold wind and falling ice. He's taking deep lungfuls and has closed his eyes. "It's like we're the only people in the whole world."

The wind howls in the distance, like an army of ghosts is marching to war and vessels are flying by, miles and miles away. I lay back in the snow near Slim's seated form and feel the snow touch my face like little pinches against my burning cheeks.

"It's..." But I find no adjective.

"It's amazing," Slim says.

"Yeah..."

"Hey, guys," Guy says, "look!"

He's found a huge dead branch, straight as a needle, and has speared the snow at his feet. The stick ―possibly five feet in length― goes into the snow...

And doesn't stop, and doesn't stop, and doesn't stop, until it hits solid ground.

"Oh shit!"

Only a few inches can still be seen at the surface. The whole length of the stick is buried vertically in the snow, and we quickly see how much snow seperates us from the real ground.

"Siiiick..."

"I'm getting cold, people, let's go back."

"Fine," I say, to Guy, who uses the stick to feel his way down the hill.

"Anything you say, sherpa," Drew jokes.

"Sherpa?"

"Yeah, like those hiking guides tourists use in, like, the Himalayas..."

"I'm not a sherpa, moron."

"I say you are."

We reach the house after twenty minutes of more exhausting hiking through thick snow. Drew's dad takes a picture of us four covered from head to toe in ice and snow.

"Maybe I should get going," Guy finally says. "It's almost midnight and I only live some ten minutes away by car."

"Alright," we say and say goodbye. Guy thanks Drew's dad, then walks back out.

Five minutes later, we hear the front door open again, and Guy steps in.

"Hey, folks." He looks a little tired. "My car's stuck in the driveway."

"Guess it'll have to stay there until we get the plow, then," Drew remarks, amused.

"It can't," Guy says, "it's halfway in and halfway on the street."

We draw a quick and simple conclusion: we're going to do what every Canadian has to do in their life, at least once.

We're going to have to dig the car out of the snow, then push it along until it gets a decent grip.

I have to say that one cannot officially consider oneself a Canuck until they've pushed with all their strength at a car's bumper to get it unstuck from a snowbank. It is such a typical Canadian activity that everyone has at least one car-pushing story to tell, from the moment they reach their teen years.

Lacrosse is our official sport. De facto, it is hockey. But that's only because nobody will ever admit to having an official sport with as few rules as car pushing. Trust me, that's like saying your national sport is kick-the-can or something.

"Fucking snow," Slim mutters are we dredge back out in full snow apparel with shovels. "I fucking hate the winter."

"You also hate the extreme heat of summer, Slim," I mumble.

"Do you have a problem with that?" Slim says, holding in a grin. "It's the nature of all Canadians to hate whatever weather they're dealt."

I laugh. "That's true."

"Okay," Drew says, sweating under his dad's fur hat, "people, when Guy slams on the gas, we push in that direction." He points towards the street, a little to the right. "He'll flash his lights if he changes from reverse."

"Okay."

" 'Kay."

It takes three or four tries, but eventually we dislodge Guy's car from the driverway and it stalls in the street. We groan.

"I'll be fine if you give me some front traction," Guy says, opening his car door. "Just give me a ramp up onto the packed snow and I should be fine."

We dig out the snow piles in front of his wheels, then position ourselves behind his car, and start pushing like we've never pushed before. I mean by this ―though you'd have to try it yourself to know how difficult it is― that we literally threw ourselves at the bumper, putting all our weight into the car, digging our boots in the snow and ice in an effort to get some solid ground.

At long last, Guy's car is dislodged. He slows down, stops, then opens his door and says, "Alright, guys, I'm off. See you!"

"Don't do your stops," Drew advises. "Or else you'll lose your momentum and stall again."

" 'kay-'kay," Guy says. "Alright, bye!"

"Bye!"

Guy closes his door, and starts. We give him one final push, then watch as he disappears in the distance, swallowed up by the storm and snow.

"Well, alright," I say, and we return to the warmth and safety of the house.

Drew shows us pictures of his latest party, and Slim goes to prepare himself a can of hot chicken soup.

Fifteen minutes after our return, Guy walks in through the front door.

We blink.

He shakes the snow off his hat and looks seriously exasperated.

"Um..." I'm the first to reach his side. "What's going on?"

He says, "I hit a snowbank on the oneway curve."

The only way to access Drew's neighbourhood is a sort of oval shape formed by two oneways that circle a small wooded area.

"... A snowbank?" I echo. "You mean you drifted?"

"No," Guy says, brushing the ice out of his hair, "I mean I was perfectly in the middle of the road and then suddenly the road disappeared. Inside a snowbank. My car is like, WHAM, half-way buried under it."

"In a snowbank. In the middle of the road."

"I can't even tell where the road is and where the sidebanks are," Guy says. "I think I can't do anything about it. I guess it'll have to wait until tomorrow morning."

"That's no good," Drew says. "The snowplows have to clear that road up. If your car's there, they won't be able to pass, let alone clear us out."

There's a moment of silence. I glance at Slim's somewhat desperated face.

"Oh, no... please, no..."

"We don't have a choice," I say, feeling a little re-energized by the situation. "We need to go over there and clear it out."

"I guess I'm staying over tonight..." Guy says, and Drew's dad nods.

"I guess so, huh?"

"Come on," Drew says. "A car needs saving."

"More than one car," Guy corrects him. "I saw three other cars out there as I passed by. I'm not the only stranded person out there."

You have three seconds to guess what we did between midnight and two in the morning.

1...

2...

3...

Over. You got it.

"I'M A RESCUER!" Drew screamed in the middle of the street at Slim and I carried the shovels and brushes required to clear out the meter of snow that had settled over everything. "I'm gonna save people!"

"He's inspired," I say, absently, to Slim. Guy ran ahead with Drew, and the two were obviously overexcited.

"I am hungry," Slim grumbles. "I could kill a caribou right now."

"I wonder if caribou taste good."

"They do. I had some a few years ago."

The snow falls around us silently, muffling everything. It's a beautiful night, but also a powerful storm.

Slim is mumbling cusses under his breath. I can't help but laugh.

"Oh, Slim, you're not that pissed off."

He pauses, then shoots me a gentler look. "No, you're right. I'm not. But I AM very hungry and tired."

"You know, this birthday will have definitely been memorable. Perhaps not the best, but definitely memorable."

He snorts. "Yeah, definitely my top three oddest birthdays ever, if not number one."

"I'd never organized surprise parties before," I admit. "I didn't think it'd end up this way..." I motion vaguely to the storm raging around us and the snow and the trecking we're doing, carrying shovels, "but I have to say that I'll remember for a long time to come."

"It was a success," Slim says, softly, looking up at the snow falling.

"You're not mad about us messing with your drums, are you?"

He shrugs. "A little, to be 100% honest." He glances my way. "I saw how badly you'd set it up, and it's always a big annoyance to me, fixing them. But you meant so well, and you wanted me to have fun, and you invited everyone... that's what counts."

I laugh. "Sorry for the bad set-up. We're not pros. Anyway, it was Drew's idea."

He shrugs. "It's okay. I really appreciate it."

We dug snow and pushed at cars until two in the morning, but eventually, we made it back home. Thank goodness.

And then, instead of going to bed to compensate for the insanity, we stayed around until four in the morning, watching the last movie. I was half-asleep and falling on Slim's flank, but as soon as the credits started rolling, I said, "Alright, that's it, I'm outta here."

And ran up the stairs, to Drew's sister's room, where they'd let me sleep.

The wake-up was a little rough, because Mom called around eleven, and we were still asleep. Still, the storm had died out overnight and we were now free of it. The snow plow had also come around, so the streets were somewhat cleared up. I accepted to be ready to hop in as soon as she showed up, and she offered to take Slim home.

So I went downstairs and knocked on the door to the guest room.

"Yeah?"

I opened the door and saw Slim, lying contentedly on the king-size bed, and said, "Mom's coming soon. If you'll get ready, we'll drive you home..."

He smiled. "Yeah, alright."

"Did I wake you up?"

"I've been awake for ten minutes."

I laugh. "You anticipated, didn't you?"

"Pure skills," he joked, and rolled over. I shut the door and went to brush my teeth.

I thanked Drew's dad profusely, and Guy came up in time to wave goodbye sleepily, but Drew was still fast asleep. I figured I'd still catch him on Messenger later on.

With that, Slim and I walked out, and finally went home.

Shall I say that this weekend was long? Yes. Was it fun? Very yes.

Will I do it again sometime soon?

Errr... I don't know. Heh.

Love,
CM

P.S. This update is 15 Word pages long. I feel like I'm writing OiH all over again. X.x