The Not So Harrowing Tale of Snow Fluff -or- Nothing Good On TV Tonight, So…
Our youngest daughter, Miranda – the creative one – is an intrepid member of the Girl Guides of Canada. Two weeks ago she achieved all of the requirements necessary to confer on her the distinguished title of “Brownie”. And I couldn’t be more proud.
As you know, Girl Guides is synonymous with all things crafty. I have paper mache masks, half completed bird houses and an array of stick people drawings and paintings that I can’t part with, piled high in my home office. I’m certain should I throw ANY of them out… I will forever boil in the steaming cauldrons of Hell.
I picked up my daughter from Brownies last Thursday night, like every frig’n Thursday night, only this time she was beaming over a creation she had fabricated out of what appeared to be a small swatch of white faux fur, two brown pipe cleaners, three plastic beads, a strip of felt and two googly-eyes. She introduced me to Snow Fluff the… um… whatever the hell it was. It looked like a tiny, white, square, flattened Chewbacca. It was kinda cool, actually.
Now with every great character comes an even greater backstory. Sadly, Snow Fluff hadn’t one… yet. So, as any doting dad would do… I gave him one.
Snow Fluff was the youngest of seven children. He was born to a Norwegian oyster farmer and his wife in Oslo around the turn of the century. At a young age, Snow Fluff had a keen interest in collecting in-flight sick bags (unused) and an aptitude for Parcheesi. At 12 he was the youngest ever to graduate with honourable distinction from the Ragnar Frisch School of Economics in Trondheim. Seeking a better life, at 12 and a quarter, he said goodbye to his family and attempted to move to Äteritsiputeritsipuolilautatsijänkä, Finland. And I say “attempted” because he was stopped at the border and arrested for mispronouncing Äteritsiputeritsipuolilautatsijänkä. A serious crime, apparently.
After three years of hard labour in the frigidly foul Finnish felt factories in Forssa, Snow Fluff was a free… er… man. He travelled to America on a brawny British tea clipper named the “HMS L’Eggo My Eggo”. During the crossing he’d entertain the crew with ACDC covers on his Badgermin (badger + theremin). Much to the chagrin of the ship’s captain, the vessel made a wrong turn off Massachusetts and ended up six miles southeast of Moose Jaw, Saskatchewan. Of course this became one of the world’s most talked about nautical blunders due largely in part of the fact that Saskatchewan is completely landlocked, dead centre of the Canadian Prairies.
Snow Fluff worked as a server at various bars, nightclubs and Tim Hortons drive-thru windows until he saved up enough for the $37 bus ride to Toronto. As soon as he stepped off the bus in The Big Smoke he was cast in a TV commercial for bacon-flavoured peanut butter. Snow Fluff rose to instant stardom where he found riches beyond the dreams of avarice. But with fortune and fame comes the harsh regimen of the endless talkshow circuit, tabloids and those wild Hollywood parties that people like you and I only dream about. It wasn’t long after that he fell into the wrong crowd and ended up the focus of a police investigation over a matter of $500,000, a diamond jockstrap and a blind, three-legged Appaloosa named Ophelia Clodhopper. Snow Fluff had hit rock bottom.
Depressed, unemployed and suffering from an addiction to the synthetic opioid Fentanyl, Snow Fluff entered rehab where he met Cynthia Martin-Wellings-Bishop-Jenner-Huttshcweiller – a well-to-do and repeatedly widowed doctor of psychology, who immediately took a liking to her furry little client. The pair began an affair that soon saw Snow Fluff clean and sober and back on his feet. The two were married in a small ceremony at a Denny’s in Niagara Falls (on the Canadian side) and within three years had six beautiful children… all named Dana. Snow Fluff became the official spokesman for astroturf used by the Toronto Argonauts.
And they all lived happily ever after… until Snow Fluff died in a tragic blimp accident over the 123rd Grey Cup games in Lac-Pérodeau, Québec. Dr. Cynthia Martin-Wellings-Bishop-Jenner-Huttshcweiller-Fluff was devastated.