Kliban by B. Kliban for January 08, 2025

‘He was more afraid of death than of anything else. And he died as he thought he would, while the first snows of winter fell.’

He had Writer’s Snow Block, and kept thinking of The Snows of Yesteryear.

That’s an image I never would have thought.

Why isn’t he sitting in a lounge chair that has a cupholder built in to the armrest?

He has 28 different words for snow, but doesn’t know how to use them.

Was that a snowy owl, a boreal owl, or a western screech-owl? Maybe it was a northern saw-whet owl, a barred owl, or a northern hawk-owl.

They say “write what you know.” When has he ever seen an owl or lettuce? Okay, maybe a snowy owl…

An owl would be more likely to fall into a nest of mice.

Let’s see…I’ve got it! Not lettuce, cabbage!

Sheer poetry, and by sheer I mean let’s cut out that last part about the lettuce bin.

And the snow came down as softly as dandruff on a bed pillow. No…