The sky was black and the stars shined brightly as we pulled up to the curb. The only sound was the click of our seatbelts and then the crunch of the iced over door opening. I climbed out of the car first and felt the dry sting of the night air. The road glistened under the street light as I carefully walked to the trunk of the car. Corey met me there and slid his key into the hole and turned it. The flash of the trunk light illuminated the contents inside; a blanket, an ice scrapper, and most importantly the twenty four rolls of Safeway brand toilet tissue. .
The plastic popped as I thrusted my thumb threw the center of a role, then the crinkle as I tore it apart. I piled twelve roles into my arms, and Corey did the same. We crept around the corner to the grey house, the only house without Christmas lights. The grass crunched under our feet as we walked toward the house. We began to layer the bushes in front of the house with the white paper, then the tree, this left us with sixteen rolls for the house and two for the yard. I quietly walked around to the gate, the wood creaked as I pushed it open. Avoiding doggie land mines, I tiptoed to the back yard. The game of catch began. The toilette tissue flew through the air like streamers caught in the wind. When the last role emptied itself onto the roof, I crept back to the front. Now for the last two roles we would cover the lawn. The paper made a faint roar as we disconnected each individual sheet. The sparkling green grass faded to white as we littered the ground with 400 sheets of tissue. Then I walked to the street, took a deep breath and smiled to Corey. He smiled back as we gazed at our masterpiece. .
We made it snow that night without their being a cloud in the sky. We trotted back to the car, our bones frozen and our eyes burning from exhaustion we sat in the car. The engine whined as it started up, the green glow of the clock showed 2:30.
