Post Card Pretty

         “YOU ARE NOTHING.” I screamed. My fists were clenched and the springs in my arms wound tight, completely at the ready to throw as many punches as possible, as fast as possible.
         I was alone in an open field, standing slightly hunched over, ready for a fight with no one. Before me was a tall, picture-perfect snowman, grinning pathetically at me through lips of coal. I glared fire at him, hating him fiercely, but he remained stolid. “YOU DON’T EVEN FUCKING EXIST. YOU’RE JUST FUCKING SNOW. YOU AREN’T ALIVE, AND YOU NEVER FUCKING WILL BE. SOME DISGUSTING, PERFECT LITTLE FAMILY CAME ALONG AND BUILT YOU UP JUST TO POSE IN POST-CARD PICTURES WITH YOU. THEN THEY FUCKING LEFT YOU. YOU HEAR THAT?! THEY WENT ON WITH THEIR FUCKING LIVES AND WILL NEVER THINK OF YOU AGAIN. NOT THAT YOU CARE, BECAUSE YOU AREN’T FUCKING REAL.” I lunged, smashing into the cold, lifeless mold of snow, causing the head to topple off, rolling some ways away. I punched and screamed and kicked and hated until the point where I was merely flailing about in a mound of bitter whiteness and coals.
         Silently, I lay there, unmoving now. I swallowed sharp, textured air that seemed to slice open my throat before ripping its way to my lungs. I let my head fall to the side, my face raw, stinging as it came to rest against the wet ice. Before me laid a carrot; straight and orange, like something one would expect to see only in television ads, or wax foods. It was the snowman’s nose, and must have fallen out when the head rolled away. Sitting up, I took the vegetable in my hands- holding it carefully, like a blade. For the slightest moment, I had the strongest of urges to snap it in half. However, a better idea came to me before I had the change to close my fists around it.
         On my knees, I trudged over to where the head of my fallen foe had come to rest. My legs were stiff and unfeeling, clothes heavy with solid turned liquid. I caressed what remained of its face with my free hand, noticing a few coal teeth had gone missing, and the nose, but the eyes remained in tact. The perfectly black coals angered me; they were too nice, too alive to belong to this disembodied head.
         I raised the carrot up in the air and brought it down hard, gouging out those sickeningly dark eyes in a fit of rage.