Snow Freaky

*This is an account of some weird happenings as told by Bentley.

   The calendar may show autumn is only a few days away, but the thermometer still says summertime heat here on the bayou. That is the reason what happened this week was so weird or should I say, Snow Freaky?

   We were cruising down the interstate when we decided to take a stop and stretch our legs. There was a huge Louisiana statue that looked like a great photo op. As we piled out of the car to pose for a most excellent shot, we heard someone holler. Being a dog, I insisted that we find out if we could lend a paw to help. Pierre began doing a search of the area while I tried to pick up a scent. I put my nose to the ground and was shocked find a trail of ice.

   After whistling for Pierre and telling Mom to stay in the car, we followed the ice to the edge of the sidewalk. That is when we saw him. It was a snowman and he appeared to be crying. After reminding Pierre not to hike his leg on the distressed snowy stranger, we approached. “Hello, Mr. Snowman. Why are you crying?” I asked with concern. “Dude, I am not crying! I am melting. Why is it so hot here?” The poor guy was getting skinnier by the minute. I had to explain that he was in Louisiana and it was crazy hot because well, he was in Louisiana.

   “You guys act like you’ve never seen a snowman before!” he exclaimed. I reassured him that we didn’t mean to stare, but that snowmen were very rare around here. He looked relieved and began to tell us his story. It seems that he once lived on The Hill with two Dachshunds named Frankie and Ernie. Apparently the family was moving far away from The Hill and during the packing many of the snowmen that lived there were lost. He was considered a snowfreak by the others because instead of a snow creature, he wanted to be a country-western singer. When he saw his opportunity, he made a break for it and snowballed south where country music is king.

   By this time, Mom had gotten worried and came see what was taking us so long. She was shocked to see us talking to a snowman. “Who in the world are you? What are you doing here besides melting?” I really thought that she was going to pass out when he stuck his twig hand out and introduced himself. “My name is Frank E. Flake and I’m gonna be a star!” Luckily I grabbed a piece of Frankie’s hip and applied it to Mom’s head. She jumped and squealed, but I am pretty sure that I saved her life. Anyway, we did some fast thinking since he was quickly becoming a puddle. I suggested that we take him to see The King. Pierre cheered at the idea. Frank E. wanted to take a souvenir snapshot as proof that he survived a day in the southern heat. I told him that we could probably find a tee shirt with that sentiment on the front.

   We loaded Frank E. along with his weird shaped suitcase in the front seat. Mom turned all of the air conditioning vents on him. Pierre and I admit to taking a couple of licks off him. I realized that he was really one tall glass of water. Mom drove as fast as she could to the Municipal Auditorium. Our new friend was going to meet with the one person that could help us. If our frosty friend wanted to see where music was king, he had to see the King himself, Elvis.

   Since I am the Hound Dog, it was my job to do the speaking. Elvis understands me. Once I explained our situation, he was all shook up. He confessed watching his snowmen melt always made for a blue Christmas. According to the King, Frank E. always had the power to go back to the land of snow and ice. All he had to do was fulfill his dream of being a country singer. Pierre ran back to our car and grabbed the weird suitcase. It turned out to be a guitar! You simply have not lived until you’ve heard those two sing, “Winter Wonderland.”

   Before Frank said his final good-bye, he admitted that he missed his dogs and wanted to return to them. I had to agree that it was a great idea. Seriously, after you’ve played with the King of Rock-n-Roll what’s left for a snowman? We posed for another picture to remember our time with Frank E. Flake. He waved good-bye and promised to be back with his buddies Frankie and Ernie by the first snowfall.
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What do Elvis, a snowman, and the Bayou Boys have in common? Find out here→ http://t.co/dvbAHSp10N #humor #elvis

— M. K.Clinton (@mk_clinton) September 12, 2015

*This story is part of a blog hop to welcome our friends Frankie and Ernie back to Blogville They have made a huge move and are settling back into the blogging. We have missed their funny adventures and hope that all of their mom's collection of “snowfreaks” made the move. Visit other snowmen adventures by clicking the icons below.