Look at the pretty snow! Look, look, look. David has a job. He moves the snow. Move, move, move. Sometimes the rain falls on top of the snow. When it gets cold, it all turns to ice. David hates the ice. He wants it to go away. Today is Christmas Eve, and when it got cold, the rain turned to ice. It turned to ice on top of the snow. It turned to ice on the sidewalk. It turned to ice in the street. David was not happy. David has other things to do today besides fuck around with ice. Fuck, fuck, fuck. If it gets warmer, then the ice will start to go away, and David can deal with all his other Christmas Eve jobs. If it doesn’t go away, then David will just want to die. Die, die, die. And be buried. Decay, decay, decay.
