Prose Poem: Snowball in Hell.

 

My team and I took a snowball to Hell.

We had to clean away centuries of

basket debris piled at the entrance,

but eventually we  managed to get

past the high water and present ourselves

to his Infernal Majesty.

He proved to be most gracious,

and curious.

"My dear mortals" he began,

"Why do you wish to bring a snowball

into my domain?"

"Well, it's this way" I told him.

"The glaciers are all melting topside.

And yet the winters get colder

while the summers get hotter.

We believe the human race no longer

has the chance of a snowball in Hell

to survive. We're here to prove that thesis,

one way or the other."

"And peppermint bushes now walk like men"

added my assistant, unhelpfully.

His Infernal Majesty appeared nonplussed.

"Please to produce the snowball" he finally requested.

I held it up for his inspection.

 It had melted into itself,

becoming a ball of ice.

It was dripping very slowly;

I calculated that at its current melt rate

it would last approximately two more days.

Mr. Scratch (if I may now be so familiar) clapped

his hands and two minions scurried over to

take the snowball from my hand to place inside a 

chest freezer in the corner.

"Funny" I mused out loud. "I didn't notice 

that freezer before . . . "

"My dear morsels" said the darkening figure on the throne, 

"I just materialized it.

 Please give your snowball no more 

thought whatsoever."

"Hey" said my assistant, "he called us 'morsels, instead of mortals."

"Indeed I did" said his Infernal Majesty (seemed like the use of his proper title was a better idea.)

"I find your ignorance and your conceit delicious, and I shall enjoy it, slowly and daintily, for eons to come" he said, sounding exactly like Frank Nelson on the old Jack Benny show while licking his glowing red lips. 

I knew we should have just stuck to drilling ice cores . . .