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Rated: 13+ · Monologue · Satire · #1086656
Where is Spring?
That does it! Where on earth is Spring? Its 29 degrees outside on March 27th!

The pets need food and I can't find my slippers. Not the sandal looking ones either. I want the ones with fur inside. They look like ankle boots. You know, I wore them this past winter!. Better yet, bring me coffee; let me snuggle underneath the warmth of my toasty comforter. The Dobermans can starve. The cat too; there's plenty of field mice running around the farm. 'Bout time she earned her keep.

But where is Spring?

Wasn't she supposed to report to work last Monday? On March 20th? Clock in time: 1:26 PM EST...I heard CNN Headline news weatherman Bob Van Dillen say so. HIs words gave me a tingly happy feeling that fluttered throughout my body. I caught my breath. My heart skipped a beat. My eyes halfway closed in a satisfied moment of silence. Ah, I love Spring. Well, okay, not the pollen part. Next to Summer, Spring ranks second on my list of favorite seasons.

What happened? She only works 12 measly little weeks out of the entire year. She's barely shown her face since her shift began. I'm lodging a complaint. After all, I've been robbed. Seven days of 75 degrees or so. Instead, I've gotten cold winds, low temps, and cloudy skies.

But then again, maybe she's sick - with swine flu.

I can see it now. Calling into work...knowing you only have to perform 84 out of 365 days a year- yet you can't even make it in the first week. What's the boss gonna say? Spring reaches over, gropes for her cell phone on the bedside table.

"Um, yeah, Mom? ..." she's stammering. Nobody likes pissing Mother Nature off. "So...yeah, um, here's the thing," she says in the sickest sounding voice possible, "I can't come into work today."

Long dramatic pause.

"My joints ache, my head hurts. I have a fever of 102," she pauses, coughing. "Plus, I barely got any sleep last night." She mumbles a few incoherent symptoms - for good measure.

The wrath of Mother Nature immediately melts. With images of her first born lying in bed, sick, and helpless, how can she express her usual crankiness?

"Can Summer cover for me?" Spring asks, her voice weak and hollow.

"No," Mother Nature says, "She's AWOL. Some concert down in Australia or something. Don't worry. You just take care of yourself, sweetie. I'll take care of things around here."


"She's busy. Off with her boyfriend."

With Spring down, Summer missing, and Autumn out of pocket, that only leaves Winter.

Sheesh! I'm going back to bed.
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