It was snowing in her dorm room. Thousands of white, loose-leaf paper littered the floor. The papers were scattered across the desk, the shelves, and piled several inches thick on top of her bed. It had finally occurred. Her printer had finally exploded from the stress of mass-producing several papers.
Neva sighed as she stared at her printer in disbelief. It never failed, her printer would become overwhelmed and somehow manage to spew the papers out the top (no one had told her how it did this as of yet) as if there was a mini-volcano perched on the corner of her desk. From the doorway, a chortle announced the presence of her floor-mates, looking in as if they had come across a grotesque accident scene.
“What?” Neva demanded, acting as if standing in the middle of a paper-covered room was a normal thing. Her outburst sent the tittering gaggle of girls away, and Neva sighed again. She stooped down, and realized that this had to be a dream. That there was no possible way that her printer could become a dormant volcano, laying in wait for the perfect time to shake off its sleepy confines, to blanket her room in this snow-like material.
Slowly, she began to shift through the mounds, trying to make sense of this mess. But it was impossible. Somehow, everything had been printed in triplicate—and then, there were some papers that were missing several pages. How did this happen? Then again, it didn’t really matter—she had a mess to clean up.
A laugh was starting to build within her stomach. All things considered, it was somewhat amusing, frustrating, but amusing. There was knock on the doorframe and Neva glanced up from her psuedo-snow mound. Her Resident Assistant, Kitti, stood in the doorway. She was fully swathed in her thick winter jacket, scarf wrapped around her face. A heavy woolen cap was perched on top of her head, thick skiing gloves covered her hands, and snow boots completed the ensemble.
Neva was too busy gawking at this clearly delusional RA’s clothing ensemble to realize what she held in her hands. After a few moments, it finally dawned on her that Kitti was holding a snow shovel in her hands.
Kitti finally spoke, after loosening the scarf. “Need some help, Neva?”
“Yeah,” Neva answered, glancing around the room, “I think I do.”
Kitti nodded, and after shedding several layers of clothing, the two women began to fill garbage bags with the papers. It took at least three large bags before the paper was cleaned up.
“So,” Kitti began, glancing over at Neva with a sly grin. “What do you want to do with your snow?”
Neva paused for a long moment, glancing from the large white garbage bags to Kitti and then back again. There was something that she wanted to do, but the question was, how were the other’s on the floor was going to handle it?
With the help of Kitti, a roll of duct-tape, and several snickers from passing girls, a snowman was constructed. Around its neck, a sign was hung. It simply read:
“When it snows, make a snowman”
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