the showdown
You have to imagine it with the music of an old west showdown, a rattlesnake's anger sounding in the background, and a tumbleweed the only thing moving in the frame. Well, you don't have to imagine it that way, but it will make for a much more interesting read. The face-off happened in the space of mere seconds, but what it represents will carry on for at least, well, several days to two weeks.
We'd gotten our 7 or 8 inches of snow the night before, and I was forging a path through that horrid precipitation to the street so that I could get to church that morning. For elaboration on my church-going habits, see the follow-up article entitled, "My April is such a good girl," to be written by my mother (print date unknown).
I'd gotten about half way down the driveway, intending to shovel just enough to get my car out, and then finish it up after church. Suddenly, my ears detected the sound of evil on wheels. I should have known it was too much to hope that I'd get out of my driveway and safely on my way before the plow came.
At a fanatical cruising speed of nearly 11.2 mph, the metal devil was coming my way, displacing white gloom in its wake. Did this beast's operator give a thought to the lives that would be thrown into ruin over his mid-morning joyride? Methinks not.
I could swear I saw his wicked sneer a block away: he was out for the blood, sweat and tears of the innocent, and nothing short of that would satisfy him.
In slow motion, I locked eyes with this nefarious soul. My lip curled and I heard a growl beginning deep in my chest. Now, that part was rather gratifying, as I've been trying to learn to do that for years. But I digress.
Evil Snowplow Man - henceforth to be referred to as "ESM" - raised his eyebrow in a silent challenge. What could I, a helpless shoveler, do to combat him, in his megalometallic chariot? Surely, I was defenseless. He'd won. With a triumphant gleam in his eye, ESM started to look away, and that's when I unleashed my secret weapon.
The silence was complete; the scene set for an ambush by the underdog. You know the bit. Over-confident bad guy meets underestimated, unlikely hero. I played my innocence card. He never had a chance.
I stepped forward. With one hand on my trusty (the first T is silent) snow shovel and the other on my hip, I made my move. I lifted my chin, turned my head to face ESM head-on, and I.....glared at him.
That's right, I glared. There are those who'd find this action unnecessarily cruel. The guy was just doing his job, after all. No matter that I'd potentially be late for church. My inconvenience notwithstanding, did ESM deserve my ocular abuse?
Though it seemed rather harsh, in Huron they say, the ESM's heart grew three sizes that day. As he drove past my house, piling snow to the sky, he looked back in regret, with a tear in his eye. So, when you see the man with the plow come your way, know there is a defense, and this might be your day.
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written works © April Palleria, 2002