The freak winter storm dropped sleet in Yuma.

The freak winter storm dropped sleet in Yuma. Residents were unprepared. Chaos ensued. Schools were shuttered. Teacups were shattered. But worst of all no one remembered to

remember what it was they shouldn't forget. After the snow in Yuma cleared, the city counsel called a meeting at the American Legion Hall to see if they could remember what

the tired old man had whispered to them. "Don't forget", but what? Was it something old, something new, something borrowed, NO! That's it, its something buried

He pulled out his WW1 truncheon and hobbled to the gray dirt patch under the withered oak behind the old man's shotgun shack. "Was this the spot?" he wondered as he dug furiously.

The weapon made a poor substitute for a shovel against the hard packed soil. But he would not be deterred. With sweat and dirt clouding his vision, he peered down into the hole.

The sweat and dirt rained into the hole, only to evaporate back into his eyes. He was the hole's Mother Nature, and the worms worshipped him as such. A violent Mother, he wielded

his Oedipal complex for his Mother Nature hole like an impossibly heavy sword. True, he was blind, but he could also see clearer than he ever had before about the meaning of life.

And the meaning of life, as certified by the PEGI board of trustees, is heavily revisionist. Oedipus no longer had a mother. He was made of wood. And he now wore sunshades instead.

Oedipus was frequently mistaken for a lawn gnome. He tried to find meaning in what happened. His poor mother. And it hit him: everything in life led to this moment. He was meant to