Merry Christmas

The snowflakes swept by the gust of wind, blew away Mr. Patrick’s wig, puzzling him so that he tumbled over a snow-draped rock. His face left an imprint on the white floor. 

Cracking laughter from Bob penetrated his numb ears. 

“Shut up, you rascal. Get indoors.”

As the fit of laughter subsided, Bob with his feet buried in the thick snow, wailed, “Can't move, papa.”

The Northwind had put on velocity. The silence was drilling everywhere. Mrs. Patrick who parted the shutters of the door on rusted hinges discovered the funny sight and said aloud "Merry Christmas".