The Weatherman's Elephant

*This story contains themes of death and injury.

I died.

Cold entered my bloodstream, injected with the hardness of an iceberg covered in blood.

The weatherman said it would be hot and humid on this mid-summer’s day in Europe? Mexico? Southern California? I give up. Where am I? They were never right. It was cold. Very cold. Tundra cold from where I lay on the concrete. Cars race around my silhouette, warming the pavement. I can smell the heat, intertwined with the tainted rubber, rising. Still cold.

“Hey, mister, are you okay?” A bent over blonde, yells down at me. She’s dressed in yoga clothes, for pure enjoyment, one can tell. Sweat had never touched that spandex.

Just as I get ready to scream, “I’m dead.” A feral elephant almost walks over me. Where the heck did it come from?

Maggie, my daughter, shows up in a room with blue paint. On the wall is a picture of a black-and-white elephant. “Am I in the hospital?” No, I’m dead I remember. A smell of fresh paint sifts through the cilia in my nostrils. It’s stringent. Ice cubes invade my veins. Who would even pick that abhorrent color of blue? A weatherman. They are always wrong.

Her tears flow non-stop, as she leans her head on Felix’s shoulder. “Poor Dad. The elephant was just too fast. The weatherman told us to stay home. He didn’t listen.” An elephant? Fat sagged from my left side to my right side. My feet lived in loafers but were now toe-exposed. Ugly feet. Such ugly blue feet. Ice capped toes. Snow. It must have snowed, but I didn’t listen. Who would listen to the weatherman? Who? A five inch wide, oak wood floor hugged the skin- wrapped cellulite peeking out of my blue polo, as it drooped there, frozen. Makes sense. My body only moved toward the refrigerator at a sluggish pace. No way this overweight human could outrun a 25 mph mammal.

I think hard. Where did I meet the elephant? Did I take a wrong turn? The zoo. I bet I took Maggie to the zoo. Which one took my life? Dead. Cold. Can I get a blanket? Maggie always loved the zoo. I bet that is what happened. An escaped land animal tapped me out of earthly existence.

A storm tumbles into the room with sheets of rain soaking my three piece suite. Odd, how did I change? I can’t even move. The hail starts small, tapping at my forehead. Tap. Tap. Tap. The frozen ice gradually bursts into the magnitude of golf balls. Boom. Boom. Boom. Oh, how I liked to golf with my darling wife. Where was she? Doesn’t matter now. I’m a lifeless corpse. Blue paint streams down the wall, melting away. The elephant picture dissipates. Maggie? Where did she go? A locomotive sound draws my attention.

Which direction is it moving? West to East I believe. A subway must be close. No. I’ve heard this commotion before. My nose tickles. My tongue dries. Encompassed by tall wheat, the wind brushes the grain across my face. An E-4 tornado drives the loose wreckage into the sky. Debris shifts left to right, then round and round. Sheer power of recirculating wind drives across the field. No need to worry, I’m already dead. I desperately try to absorb the heat, but am immersed inside an ice box. Did the weatherman predict this? I doubt it. A pounding erupts the ground below. Running. A large animal sprints along the weather force.  Stomping the wheat to its demise. An elephant. I can’t rid myself of the evil creature. Leave me alone! My silent voice shrieks from within. Get away. Yet, the warm blooded animal haunts me like a shadow. I can’t shake it. Murderer.

Voices escalate in the distant. It’s Mary’s. My dear wife is near which brings me comfort. Not warmth. But comfort. Watch out, I want to say. She’s hidden in the wheat, but the elephant brings chaos to its gate. Thump. The ground tremors. Thump. She bellows. Snow drops out of the tornado. Gray skies emerge. Crying echoes within the squall. Mary! Mary! I want to get up, but remember I died. Mary are you okay?

Mary?

Mary?

Silence invades the atmospheric pressure. A shovel lands near my head. Hand-delivered to the surface by an out-of-control twister. It parks within inches of my flesh. No matter. No harm. I am a stiff. The crying in the distance increases its volume. I want to help, but you see, I’m deceased. One step in front of the other is just too much.

An invisible hand digs. The ground is soft. No! My soul relinquishes its final plea. No! I want to live one more day with Mary and Maggie. I want to laugh with them. I want to eat with them. I want to hug them. Stop digging. My dead body tremors

Poke. Someone or something pokes my side. I feel it, but can’t escape the dark. Poke. Has the elephant returned to kill me one more time? A cool air blows across my aching skin. Rays from above penetrate the clouds. So many changes to the weather. I begin to see why the weatherman can’t be accurate.

Poke.

Poke.

Poke.

I gasp! I’m not dead. Where am I? Pain enters my head. My eyes swelling worries me. I hear beeping noises. Beep. Beep. Beep. I shake it off and open my eyes. Hospital. I’m not dead.

“Dad.” Maggie sits beside me on a bench. Concern invades her face. “Dad!” Charlotte, my dear sweet grandchild’s pink, plush elephant sunken from Mary's tight grip. She holds it on her lap. An elephant. A pink elephant.

“What’s going on? I’m not dead?”

“No, Dad. You are not dead. Mom and Charlotte are going to be okay. They are fine.”

I pondered out loud, “It was all just a dream? I’m not dead?”

Then I remembered. “Oh, no!” The ice. The weatherman didn’t call for rain with the sudden drop in temperatures. Mary had slid on the ice holding Charlotte.

Worst yet, looking down at my shirt’s logo. “I am the weatherman.”