By Scott Sullivan
Editor
Am I Dead Yet?
Hell froze over last week, along with the rest of Michigan. Trees were exploding everywhere. That’s right. “During spells of extreme cold,” notes the National Forest Foundation, “when trees haven’t had time to acclimate, the life-sustaining sap inside them begins to freeze.”
Frozen water in the sap expands, puts pressure on the bark and boom! “It sounds like a gunshot,” said Western Texas A&M University physics professor Cristopher Baird.
I tried to drive to a store, which proved closed, to buy driveway salt they were out of anyway when an oak limb crashed through my car’s sky roof. No need now for air-conditioning.
I decided to avoid the 100-car freeway pileup by taking backroads to the Pullman Tavern but soon was detained by ice. Using the limb through the sunroof I pried myself our jaws of life-like. There was a sled dog team rerouted south from Alaska because it was colder here.
They towed me to the P.T. “Which way to the North Pole from here?” asked the driver, Sgt. Preston.
“Um, north?”
“Thanks. Don’t want to disappoint kids in the library’s Idita-Read program,” he said. “Mush!” he cried to the huskies. They vanished into the whiteout.
I staggered into the bar. “Blatzes for everyone!” I told Zeke the Bartender.
“We’re the only ones here,” he said.
“Works for me,” I said.
Out he came with a 30-gallon keg, which I downed in a gulp. St. Bernards rushed in with 12 casks of brandy. “Yum. Bottoms up,” Zeke said.
By then I was numb enough not to feel the cold. Trees were bursting everywhere. “What a joy,” I told Zeke, “to live in a winter wonderland.” I decided to change the topic. “Ever heard of ‘Am I dead yet?’”
“Huh?”
“It’s the most-popular app in China’s Apple store,” I said. “You’d think in a land with 1.5 billion people loneliness wouldn’t epidemic, but you’d be wrong. How it works is people who live alone use the app every two days to text friends that they’re still kicking.”
“Have you tried it yourself?” Zeke asked.
“I’m afraid what the answer would be,” I said.
In walked the abdominal snowman.
“I though you were abominable,” I said.
“Everyone’s a critic,” he groused. “No, my stomach’s frozen. Someone bring the heat.”
In walked seven armed ICE agents. “Glad someone’s open,” said the leader. “Governments, schools, other non-essentials closed. Any immigrants here?” He studied the snowman suspiciously. “Looks like an Eskimo …”
“Don’t shoot!” begged the snowman.
BOOM!
“Am I dead yet?” he asked.
“Nah, just another tree exploding,” said the leader. “It’s nothing, really.”
“Well, now it is,” said Zeke, picking out bark splinters. Back came the St. Bernards.
“Hallelujah,” Zeke said.
“They look Swiss,” said the leader. “See if they’re wearing watches.”
Agents frisked the dogs but found only casks of brandy.
“That’s enough,” said the leader. “Seize the booze, but the dogs are exonerated.”
Back came the huskies, with the St. Bernards engaging in a barkfest. Sgt. Preston came them. “Brandy? Yum!”
In walked Donald Trump. “Killed anyone yet?” he demanded of the ICE agents.
“No,” said the leader.
“What use are you?”
“None sir,” they agreed. In walked Bill Huizenga.
“Another lapdog,” Trump muttered.
“Arf,” said our state representative.
“Listen,” Trump pivoted. “We all know that global warming is a hoax. Look outside.”
“Look inside your heart,” said the snowman.
BOOM!
“Tell your tree-huggers that,” snarled the president.
“Yes, sire,” Bill said.
“Wait,” Sgt. Preston objected. “I am the Yukon King.”
In walked the Saugatuck-Douglas Good Trouble Indivisibles. “No kings,” they chanted.
“Get ‘em, boys,” Trump ordered the Indivisibles and ICE agents.
“He’s the one you’re after,” Preston protested, pointing to the president. “I’m just the Yukon king.”
“Who’s on first?” asked the snowman.
Huizenga, the huskies and St. Bernards barked in chorus.
“Brandies for everyone,” Zeke said.
