Old Man Winter stood in front of his mirror and took a good look at his reflection.
Sure…he was an old dude now. The weathered lines etched across his face didn’t diminish the rugged handsomeness that would always remain. His blue eyes sparkled no matter which mood he was in. The crooked smile on his soft lips enveloped a mouth full of gorgeous snow-capped teeth.
And he took a moment to think about how he knew he was one lucky son-of-a-bitch to still have a massive amount of wavy silver grey hair on his head.
It was then that he glanced at his hairline and found a rogue tendril sneaking out from underneath the wig cap. Pushing the piece of hair back up where it belonged, he turned his attention back to the work at hand.
He reached across his vanity and lifted the wig from its stand, stood back, bent over, swooped the long hair on his head and with one spectacular move he flipped back upright snapping the hair up and over in a glorious cascade of hair styling amazingness. Looking back in the mirror, he took his time and smoothed down the sides of the wig, pushing a few pins up underneath it, making sure the seams were as flawless as he could get them. When he knew the piece was secure, he fluffed the length of bouncy blonde curls that looked like a waterfall of sunshine. When that task was finished, he turned his attention to the array of cosmetics.
French-manicured fingers laced with spectacular rings picked up brushes and sponges and got busy creating–
A dewy and evened-out skin tone
Sapphire and sky blue shadowed blackbird lined and mascaraed eyes.
Shimmering petal pink glorified gorgeous cheekbones.
And a luscious fuchsia rose irresistible kissable mouth.
Then she picked up a strand of flowers so mystical and vibrant she nearly succumbed to their intoxicating fragrances. As she sipped a Red Bull with one hand and wrapped the flowers around her head with the other, she felt all the powers of Mother Nature blooming as she stared in the mirror at her beautiful transformation.
With one last look to make sure everything was just as she wanted, she straightened the off the shoulder neckline of the flirty form-fitting pin-up style emerald green dress and then picked up another makeup brush to give her cleavage another dusting for good luck.
Finally, the work was complete.
Winter had turned into Spring.
Stepping into 4 inch sequined heels that pinched like mother-f-ers but looked amazing, she sucked up the pain, stood up straight and walked like a diva down the hallway, then stood at the door with one hand on the doorknob.
Her heart pounded.
Outside all of nature had gathered after a long, dark and quiet season. Their anticipation was palpable—the atmosphere was literally charged with excitement. Everyone knew the time had come.
Suddenly, they all turned their heads to look at the front porch where a devastatingly handsome red fox appeared standing on his hind legs with a microphone in his hand.
“Ladies and gentlemen!” the fox boomed into Nature’s sound system. The crowd went crazy.
“Please make some noise for her long-awaited return to the stage …give it up for Persephone, Queen of the Underworld!!”
The door opened and Persephone stepped outside.
She took the stage, held her arms out wide and beamed so brightly she lit up the sky.
And with that, all of the birds and animals and insects and trees and bushes and flowers and clouds and rocks and dirt and even the sun itself broke out into a round of thunderous applause as they caught the first glimpse of their Queen whom they had waited for for so long.
Then the music began–“All I Want to Do is Make Love to You’ by legendary rock goddess band Heart undulated from the speakers.
And the fabulously warm and effervescent manifestation of new beginnings, the Beautiful Persephone, lip synced and danced and flirted with her adoring subjects who happily soaked up her radiance while swaying like an ocean of snapping fingers, mixed drinks, dollar bills and laughter.
Melania blasted open the massive double doors with both hands, her long silken hair caught up like a TRESemmé cyclone in the wild breeze she kicked up. Then she took off walking, her 4-inch Louboutins clacking against the glittering-gold marble as she purposefully stomped down the corridor like a Victoria’s Secret angel working the wings and underpants catwalk.
When she got to the end of the hallway, she stopped and struck three poses in front of a mousy little receptionist watching her from behind a desk.
“Good morning, Mrs. Trump,” the girl said awkwardly as the statuesque woman shot her a bit of “Blue Steel”.
“Where is he?” Melania snapped.
“He’s in the cafeteria,” the mouse replied.
Melania took off again, using her signature walk, looking from side to side at the audience who wasn’t really there.
In the cafeteria, she found Donald sitting in a booster seat wearing a bib. He looked very disgruntled, with liquid all over his chin and his lower lip sticking out in a pout that could be seen from outer space. A sippy cup with a big blue bird on it sat tumbled over on its side nearby.
“Donald is having a bad day,” the headmistress said with a worn out I’ve-totally-had-it-up-to-here-with-this-shit look on her face.
“He pushed over a bunch of his playmates on the playground, he wouldn’t share during share time, he kept yelling WRONG at his teacher during circle time, and now he won’t drink his special drink,” she explained.
Melania looked at her husband disapprovingly and then sat next to him as the frazzled lady walked away for a moment’s peace.
“Donald,” she said as he looked at her. “Why are you being so especially bad today. And why do you not dreenk your Tweetter elixir?”
“It’s yucky,” he said, making a yucky face.
Melania sighed. This again.
“Of course it’s yucky, darling,” she explained. “It’s yucky because it helps you say all da yucky things you say on da Tweeter all da time dat your fans love so much.”
Donald hunkered down in his chair and moved his head back and forth over and over again, not wanting to hear her.
Melania knew exactly how to handle this.
“Leesten to me, little man,” she said, taking hold of his moist chin with her hand and making him look at her.
“You dreenk dis Tweeter juice and I will let you have sleepover with Vladimir.”
Donald rolled the idea around in his head.
“No,” he said defiantly.
Melania squinted her squinty eyes.
“How about sleepover with Vladimir and Uncle Ted?”
Donald sniffled thinking about it.
“No,” he said again.
“You drive hard bargain,” she told him tapping her talons on the tabletop. “You dreenk your Tweeter juice and I will let you have Vladimir, Uncle Ted and da Chachi boy over for a whole weekend.”
Donald’s face grew solemn while he thought about that.
“Okay,” he finally said, snapping up the toppled cup, placing it in his mouth and sucking eagerly.
Pleased with herself, she stood up, kissed him on the flossy head and headed out of the cafeteria. When she passed the headmistress, she gave thumbs up as they both heard Donald emit a belch so loud it shook the walls of the building.
Melania sashayed away, slid on her sunglasses, pushed open the massive double doors once again and stepped out into the bright orange sunlight.
“Same sheeet, deeferent day,” she sighed.
Sometimes I write tiny stories.
Here’s my latest:
“Darling, roll over,” Melania said softly to the giant orb of flesh topped with a pop of silky wheat floss on his head lightly emerging from his slumber next to her in their fur-covered, diamond-encrusted, Tsar-sized, Tempur-pedic bed.
“But I don’ wanna…,” the grown man slobbered, rolling anyway, as if to get away from a mother trying to wake a child to get ready for school.
Melania sighed as she pulled the heavy blankets away to look at the exposed ass cheeks of her beloved.
“Look at dees badonka-donk,” she muttered to herself.
“At least dees makes my job easy,” she added turning away to pull the syringe from the bottle labelled “Big Mean Baby Man Potion”.
Turning back to his buttocks, she sank the needle deep into his flesh and pressed the plunger all the way down.
The mountain barely flinched before emitting a thunderous gastronomical explosion.
Melania put the syringe back on the nightstand, sat up and looked at the sun trying to peek past the blinds.
“Same sheeet, deeferent day,” she sighed.