In her final attempt to make him and the rest of the moronic clan mad the queen witch ordered for the white stuff once again. Good ol’ Jean stood and began her ceremonial dance. “Snow, snow snow on the old stiff ones and all the little runts in their control!” Jean continued to dance in her maroon and gold dress, screaming, “And after the snow on Thursday let it be partly sunny with highs in the middle to upper 20s and colder on Friday with partly cloudy skies and cold with lows from 5 to 10 and highs in the lower 20’s. After her dance ended she vanished with what hopefully would be her final words “No, I don’t wear a wig!”
Vanishing hopes
Published November 21, 1996
