The Universe's Mixer

With so much snow laying on the ground, it didn't take much for the kids of the City to start playing with it. At first they hadn't known what to do, but instinct took over in no time. They were soon building things with it, making snow angels... and snow demons.... and then one kid had the brilliant idea to pick up some of it, turn it into a ball-ish shape, and hurl it at one of his friends.

It started a small war.

Soon enough, random passers by were caught up in it, forgoing everything else they had been on their way to do, and joined in.

About an hour later, everything in the City was closed so that anybody who wanted to could join the big snowball battle.

Errant snowballs flew, giving no regard to who they hit or how hard.

He had a job.

He was going to help a girl with her money. Something that he could do very easily. Something that didn't really take much effort for him to do. Something that he actually enjoyed doing, and gave him a sense of stability, even in this very very strange place.

There was still no place to live, though, and no real answers about anything that was going on. All he knew for sure was that it was all really odd and things moved. Ted didn't really understand that part, the whys of it, or the hows. It didn't really fit into anything logical, or any sort of physics that he was aware of. Really, it was just a completely absurd notion altogether.

But he'd been wandering around for hours, and sure enough, it happened. He really couldn't deny it happening, either. He saw it with his own eyes. He'd traipsed down a single street several times and it had changed. The stores on it had changed, it had curved, it had even completely changed directions at one point, which had really confused the hell out of him.

Ted wished that he'd not left the hotel. He would never find it again. He was glad that he'd taken his meager bag with his meager belongings. He needed something that was strictly his to make him feel better. So while the orange jumpsuit was technically the property of Los Angeles, it was something that he knew was real.

He stopped to have a sip of the small coffee in his hand. Stopping, of course, because he didn't want to ruin the only set of clothing that he had in this place. Out of habit, he looked around. Then stopped. Across the road from him was

"That's my house." He felt his vision tunnel a little bit from the confusion. He felt like clarifying to the world. "Well, not my house. Charlie owns it. That's Charlie's house. That's..."