Who: Wade Wilson and OPEN What: Anatomically correct snow angels, duh When: Thursday afternoon Where: A snowy location, dealer's choice Warnings: Language, Wade, TBD
The snowfall had been pretty darn epic, even in Wade's opinion of snowfall. Not that he had a PhD in snowfall or weather in general but it had still been pretty impressive. But life was good. The squirrels were holed up somewhere on the fire escape outside the living room window all snug in their little squirrel home, he had had the brains enough to go raid Walmart like a good lad and fill in holes from his survival food stash. Travis the cat could and did eat what Gally and Wade ate, no special treatment.
But now the snow had stopped for a little and Wade had taken it upon himself to venture outside. After executing a majestic belly flop off of the apartment's fire escape and into a big ole snow drift, Wade had found himself inexplicably drawn to the creation of an army of snow angels. Granted, they weren't the cleanest of snow angels and thanks to Wade's inability to be patient, most of them had boot prints all over them, but there were a lot, maybe a dozen, maybe two dozen?
Jumping up from the newest snow angel, Wade danced around, clapping his gloved hands and smiling wide behind his mask. Bending to scoop some snow into his hand he shaped it into a ball and smushed it carefully down onto the snow angel's chest, followed by a second one beside it, standing back to admire his work.