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or something like that. I can't really do it justice. The noise was awful. Turned my blood to ice. That poor cat got stuck in Old Albert's snowblower.

Years after this, I still couldn't go to a home improvement store without revisiting memories of that dreadful day. Finally I hired a contractor to clear snow from my driveway.

For some reason, I still kept a shovel by my side on those cold winter days as I watched the workers using snow-blowers on my driveway. Until one day the shovel whispered to me: "

Lo, I am the shovel called Excalibur. And since thou hast pulled me out of the snow drift, I pronounce you Skip, King of All of Nova Scotia!" "Wicked cool!" I thought.

And yea but did I lay forth with Excalibur the Shovel. We shoveled drifts and drifters and nary a flake or a flaker darkened our paths. Skip and Excalibur shoveled shat and shinola

until Roodmas when lo, what did approach but a harbinger of strange fortune astride a black steed. The weird and musty figure said unto me, "Skip and shovel Excalibur, I presume?"

"Sire, I understand you not," I spake. "Verily your utterances seem garbled. Are you frenssche?" "Thou puking baggage, I art no such thing." We'd obviously got off on the wrong foo

fighters album. "Aye, perchance we mayn't meet at the top. I do trust that as pertains to middling minded, Wasting Light remains a mighty wind of unspectacular minstrelship." The