“Babe… I got you babe,” clamored the radio. Elmo squeezed his pudgy little hand from underneath the covers and slapped the alarm quiet. “This feels like that movie Groundhog’s Day,'” thought Elmo to himself. “But Groundhog’s Day was more than a week ago, and the furry hockey puck-like rodent didn’t even see his own shadow. But then Elmo had a realization. Maybe the groundhog was wrong. After all, today’s skies were partly cloudy and it was in the lower to middle teens. A chance of snow was on the horizon. Perhaps tomorrow’s partly sunny skies would make the chance of snow more bearable. Until then, bed. …
The lying weasel
Published February 11, 1997
