Chip's ideas depressed the hell out of me and I voiced my objections. He just snickered as he bathed in the glass of wine I was drinking. He could care less. After all he was a showboat, a dazzling speaker who mesmerized everyone. I fell completely under his spell and ignored the frostbite slowly eating my feet and hands. I ignored, too, the blizzard whipping across our ice-encrusted balcony.
They found me this morning, still holding the glass of wine, covered in three inches of blue ice and dressed in pyjamas and sled-like sandals. Chip and his cohort of assorted flakes swirled above chanting,
"Don't you cry,Don't know about Chip, but I expect to thaw out in time for the holidays.
We'll be back again some day."
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