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The Last Skiier A Clarke
Wind whipped around the mountain. It was blowing snow around the skiiers, but yet, they evaded the snow.No-one was up to high to reach the top of the mountain.One man was driving the snowmobile, and it zoomed down the hill. There was a dog on four skiies, sliding down with his owners, barking with joy.The ski hut was Full, people were getting their lunch, French fries and a bowl ful of macoroni and cheese, or just a steaming hot cup of hot cocoa. People bundled up before they went back out, and Some people were waxing their skiies in front of their sons and daughters, watching wide eyed. Some were crying as their parents scolded them, and they were led away.In the parking lot, cars were arriving and leaving every minute. Still the wind blew strong.
James Rokky flew by in his car, an eye turning mustang. It was red. He had obtained the car from an old friend of his when they had fled the country. James didn't like to talk about it much. Instead, he was listening to rock and roll. Lisa Telgat was in the car with him.
"Can you please turn this off?" She asked unhappily.
"No," James grunted.
"Ugh," Lisa replied, rolling her eyes. James laughed.
Lisa's cellphone buzzed. She took it out of her coat pocket and flipped it open. "Drake," She mumbled. "I got it."
"Hello?" asked Drake, on the other end of the phone.
"Hey," Lisa said, "Where in the world are you? We've been looking for you for the last half hour!"
"I'm in the 'snack stop.' They've got some good P.B & J here."
"I am not concerned about what foods they digest in the fat hut. Can you just meet us by the rentals?"
"Yup. Got to get mine anyways. Forgot mine at home...."
"Okay, bye," Lisa said, flipping the phone back and stuffing it back into her pocket.
"Remind me again why Drake had to come?" James asked, swerving fats and snagging a parking space close to the ski hut. He turned off the ignition, savoring the last few seconds of comforting warmth before they had to race over to the ski rental amidst the wild winds.
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