It was a snowy day much like Vanessa William’s snowy day in June, save for it was March, when we summoned forth a powerful snow deity.
Kevin and I did much research on Norse Mythology and discovered the great God of old, Ullr. He is the God of snow, skiing, sexual prowess, archery and other manly things. We decided to summon him using sacred words passed through many mediums throughout generations. I found them scribed in feces on a bathroom wall while stopping at a New Jersey rest stop off I-95.
We appended the words, “and please wear our special holy ski mask” to the ancient text. To our delight it worked.
The interview was soon to follow:
Snow God: “WHY HAVE YOU SUMMONED ME? I AM THE GREAT GOD OF SNOW, ULLR. I WAS PADDLING THE BEHIND OF A BURLY NORSE WENCH WITH LEGS LIKE OAK OARS AND BREASTS LIKE SNOW CAPPED MOUNTAINS. HEY, I COULD HAVE USED THIS SKI MASK WHILE CLIMBING HER MIGHTY CHEST.”
Greg: “Let’s build a snowman! Would you eat yellow snow? You’re sexy.
Kevin, while slapping the scotch out of Greg’s hand: “Great God of snow and all things manly, you have to excuse my half-gay, drunk friend with A.D.D. Throw a ball of tightly wrapped tin foil. Go ahead. He’ll chase it.”
Snow God: “I HAVE DUELED WITH THOR AND FELT THE MALICE OF MJOLNIR! I WAS SPAWNED FROM THE VELVET VAGINA OF SIF AND, AND….. LOTS OF OTHER STUFF. I HAVE NO TIME FOR SNOW MAN BUILDING AND HALF-GAY MEN. FOR THOR’S SAKE, WHY HAVE YOU SUMMONED ME?”
Kevin: “We are looking for a cold weather spokesman for our website.”
Snow God: “WHAT DOES IT PAY?”
Kevin: “We are kinda in debt after buying a video camera. We cannot pay you right now but figured you could use the press. We would like you to speak with Rebecca from the Litchfield County Times. She said if we could summon a long dead God of snow she might be able to sneak in another story about us.”
Greg: “She is pretty. I would like to kiss her over coffee.”
Snow God: “IF HE SPEAKS AGAIN I WILL HAVE YOU BOTH SKIING THE OVARIES OF MY GREAT MOTHER SIF FOR ETERNITY!”
Greg: “Ummm… sorry… I am going to go stand over there now,” pointing to a far distance place, “but she is pretty.”
Kevin, eager to ease the tension: “So, all powerful one known by all skiers around the world and doubly so in Scandinavia, what is it like being a God? Do you… Do you like it?”
Snow God: “I HAVE GROWN WEARY OF YOU FOOLS! UNLESS YOU CAN GET ME ON LETTERMAN I AM OUT OF HERE. I AM GOING BACK TO MY NORSE WENCH WITH LEGS LIKE OARS AND BREASTS LIKE SNOW CAPPED MOUNTAINS. CAN I TAKE THIS SKI MASK WITH ME?” He gestured pointing to his head.
Kevin: “No. It is the only one we have left. Do you have any idea what the stitching costs are for the logo?”
Snow God, while scratching his head: “NO.”
Kevin: “It is much dear snow God as we are poor and humble folk.”
With that, suddenly nothing happened but the snow God was gone. He left us with only a snow angel and our ski mask.
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