Writers went looking for the freeze to follow the prompt where it led, no matter how cold the surroundings. Characters, stories and even memories emerged.
The following are based on the February 15, 2018, prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less) write a story on ice.
Ice Bells by Ann Edall-Robson
The Chinook winds roll in. Yesterday, -37 today +12. The pond that has been covered with a thick insulating shield of ice now finds itself with tiny puddles forming. Around the edge, last summers’ cattails are mesmerized by the winds. Swaying in their browned coats, watching the wind spraying the melted ice up its stock to dribble back towards the frigid base. A few days of the mid-winter water maker ends as abruptly as it came. In its wake, the ice bells have formed at the base of the cattails in mindless circles below the cold blue sky.
A High-Kick Beyond by Kerry E.B. Black
Huge cubes clinked in Aniya’s glass, dazzling as diamonds. She ran one over enflamed pulse-points. Better swelter than shovel.
Back home her family complained of freezing temperatures.
Not here in Nevada.
Not in her line of work. She’d rehearsed and auditioned until tenacity paid off. Headdresses and costumes made her alluring, but a showgirl’s career only lasted as long as her legs, and not a high-kick beyond.
She squirreled away money, lived in a hovel knowing the gig mightn’t last. So, ice cubes were her diamonds, but at least she didn’t have to shovel them to get to work.
Ice to See You by Floridaborne
“Where are you from again?’ The red cheeked man in a flappy checkered hat asked.
“What’cha doing in Minnesota?”
“Hubby just got a job here.”
“Ever seen snow before?”
“I asked mom what it looked like. She showed me the ice caked on the sides of an old freezer.”
He chuckled at my fur lined hood, ski mask, thick snow suit and moon boots. “Where ya off to?”
“Hubby, who was born in Canada, wants to go ice fishing. He dared me to walk with him onto the lake. I’m going to be well padded when I fall.”
Lady on Ice by Paula Moyer
Jean had lived in Minnesota long enough to distrust two occurrences in the winter.
One was a sunny, cold day. The newspaper weather report called it “bright, ineffective sunshine” – the kind of day when the humidity is low and the barometric pressure is high. A subzero-high kind of day.
The other suspicious event: the first days above freezing. Those days involved lots of melting snow and ice during the day. But it refroze overnight.
Jean registered the mirrored pavement as she carried her trash to the alley. Careful, careful – woops! Careful wasn’t enough. Lucky. She landed on her butt.
On Ice by Michael
In February in Australia, it’s hard to find ice lying around. So in order to complete this prompt, I’ve taken myself to the freezer, and I’m sitting in it, on ice as they say. I do have to extricate myself every ten minutes as my delicate bottom isn’t all that excited about being the butt on ice.
Added to that I don’t think my male bits are all that keen either, though you’d think with so much cold shoulder they’ve received over the years they’d be more receptive.
I’m pleased this week to go where the prompt leads me.
Spring on Ice by njoyslife.wordpress.com
In fickle spring I decide to launch my canoe on a frigid Adirondack lake. The seductive sun is full of false promises. Soon loons will return to nest, mayflies will entice rainbow trout to dance for food, and vacationers will arrive in noisy droves. For now, I journey alone on this peaceful water. I rest awhile in the center of the lake, sipping warm tea from my thermos. It’s an idyllic day until clouds roll in and the temperature takes an ominous dive. Floating chunks of ice menace the canoe, pushing together, refreezing, as I frantically paddle toward shore.
Mosaics by D. Avery
She had followed him then took the lead. Montreal was her idea. Now the river was breaking up, mosaics of ice shifting, jostling, eager for spring.
Was she going west with him?
She loved the idea of him but did not love him.
“No. I’m staying here.”
“Be careful.” He kissed her then walked away with no more possessions than when she had first met him.
There goes a beggar, naked
Except for his robes
Of Heaven and Earth
His oft quoted Kikaku. What kind of a father might he have been, she wondered, unconsciously touching her swelling belly.
A Frosty Farewell by Liz Husebye Hartmann
The fog and sleet haven’t let up since we departed Per’s Point. This far north, the sun is never more than a few inches off the horizon, for a few hours at a time. Had we chosen Midsummer, we’d have had near 24-hour sun.
But transport would’ve been problematic.
One mid-sized Dwarf Diamond would’ve set us up for life. Greedy, we stole a bagful while the dwarves hibernated, and thought to escape by sea.
Lilianne’s fallen asleep as I write this letter, here on our ice floe. I’ll join her soon.
The diamonds weren’t cursed, but we surely are.
On Ice by Steve Lodge
I’d been deported from Belzonia “for exhibiting dandruff.” I felt they were scratching around for an excuse. Across the border, I headed for No Mules Creek. Iced over for the duration, I couldn’t wash my hair in the pristine rock pools of my youth. I drank from the early morning dew, my exhaled breath like mini clouds. I took to shaving with stalactites or whatever was available. I presented as an empty canvas on which no shadow had fallen. I survived on wild marmalade tacos and essential oil and shared a shelter with the brittle bones of the dead.
Ice by joem18b
“Why do I have to drive all the way over to Bryceton for ice? I can buy all we need at Hinton’s.”
“The ice here isn’t cold enough. We’ll be up in the mountains for a while.”
“Not cold enough? Ice is ice.”
“Nah. The ice for sale at Hinton’s melts easy. The plant over in Bryceton makes ice that lasts. It’s much colder and you can get it in bigger blocks.”
“What about dry ice?”
“That would freeze grandpa solid. We want to preserve him but we don’t want to have to thaw him out for the funeral.”
Reflections by Deb Whittam
Lazing on the banana lounge Chloe contemplated her day. It had been idyllic – sitting beside the billabong, under the shade of the tall eucalyptus, the skies above an endlessly blue, the weather temperate. She sighed her satisfaction, it was time well spent.
As she reached over for her glass a bird call broke the silence and she turned to watch spellbound as a cormorant dived in to pluck a fish from the water.
With a smile she turned towards her partner, “Just perfect.”
They nodded, raising a glass in silent agreement.
“Shame there’s no ice though,” She added absently.
Thaw Time by Pete Fanning
Giles shuffled in carrying a block of ice the size of a bun cake. He found his usual stool, slid the ice down the bar, and inquired about the score.
“1-0 Penguins are up,” said Billy the bartender.
Giles smiled. Billy took the ice block, studied it, then chucked it into the sink.
“Looks like you got about two hours tonight”
Giles nodded. Roughly two hours and eight beers later the Penguins won in overtime. Billy fished a dripping credit card out from the sink and shook his head.
“Tell Rhonda the thicker the ice, the more you drink.”
Love on the Rocks by Pensitivity
Ready to make his entrance, he selected the site where he could make the best and most dramatic impression.
Oh yes, with the other guys otherwise engaged either strutting their stuff or making pests of themselves, that little cutie over there was his for the picking.
Homing in and calculating the perfect distance, he circled first to judge wind and angle of descent.
Gliding handsomely on the wing, he stretched out his feet to embrace the water, and slid flat on his face for about fifty yards, completely missing his target and damaging his pride on the frozen pond.
Tequila on Ice by jackschuyler
She stirs her margarita slowly, dubiously; beckoning to wandering eyes with pink tipped café fingers. She reapplies her lipstick. At the end of the bar, a steady gaze burns from behind a glass of tequila on the ice.
“Becky, look at that guy. I think he wants to buy you a drink.”
Becky sloshes her margarita mush with a twirl of the wrist. At the end of the bar, he slurps his drink, pats down his black comb over, and wipes sweaty hands on khaki shorts.
“Same old same old.” Becky says. Tequila on ice slides off his bar-stool.
On Ice by Sarah Whiley
She awoke with a start, drawing a sharp breath and blinking her eyes. Retinas searched for light; searched for form, in the darkness.
Where am I? she thought, confused. How did I get here?
A sense of panic welled within her. Trying to sit up, the panic deepened when she couldn’t move her arms or legs, or anything neck down.
Racking her brain, she checked her last memory. At the club. Drinking. Then black…‘til now. Twisting her head, she felt flat, slimy, coldness beneath her cheek. The door opened, and she realised with horror, she was on ice…
I Will Rise by Raymond Roy
I will rise….
Distant sunrise, cool morning breeze,
above the clouds, I rise with ease.
Like Ironman flying, I rise above,
Seeing those that have passed, my heart fills with love.
Gone is the weight of daily drama,
Which one is better, Bush, Reagan or Obama?
I will rise, here souls have no gender, doctrine , origin, or race,
no conflict, hatred, color of face.
Time as we know it, does not exist, social media likes, or media twists.
I will rise, becoming stardust, from whence I came, free of life’s burdens, only love, no shame.
I will rise.
Ice Magic by Norah Colvin
Mrs Tomkins was sorting the mail when she noticed two big tear-filled eyes peering up at her–Liam.
“Can I have some ice, please?”
“Where does it hurt?”
She pointed to the chair and got him some ice.
“Now tell me what happened.”
“No one will play with me,” he said, holding the ice to his temple.
Mrs Tomkins looked up as Jasmine and Georgie burst in.
“Liam. Come on. We’ve been looking for you.”
Liam thrust the ice at Mrs Tomkins.
“Thanks,” he said, smiling. “The ice worked.”
Mrs Tomkins smiled too. Ice magic.
Ice Dream by Sherri Matthews
The time had come. Everything she had worked for, years of slog, sacrifice, pain and sweat, all for this single moment. The roar of the crowd ushered her onto the ice and she glided, smooth as silk into position.
A tiny lull and then the music, its rhythm pulsating through her every move as she swirled and spun and leapt ever closer to her Olympic dream. Nothing less than gold would do.
‘Dinner!’ her mother called.
The ice on the pond melted overnight, but Claire never forgot her moment of glory in her back garden, alone with the ducks.
Ice by Jeremy Zagerella
We skate along fast and falling –
cut and bruised, parents calling
“slow down; coats on; just be cautious –
speed and ice make me nauseous.”
No pads on but sticks are flying
chasing pucks and always trying
focused now – eyes on the net
glance – “is she watching yet?”
Dads and moms wonder why
we freeze and laugh when we try –
ice air burns and sores our throats
we sweat buckets with no coats
throwing our arms side to side
numbing cold – our skin is fried.
All our wounds will not stop us now
all we do is laugh out loud.
Icy Adventures by Rugby843
Joey traced his finger over designs Jack Frost made on his bedroom window. Wanting to be an artist when he “grew up”, Joey was fascinated by these always fresh, unusual designs. He actually looked forward to wintertime, admiring snowflake intricacies and ice and snow sculptures Mother Nature made.
Walking through snowy fields, twas still cold enough for the melt/freeze cycle to fashion a heavy crust to teeter on. If it was very thick, a nice piece of cardboard was made into a sleigh. A tiring venture to the highest meadow made a thrilling slide back to the valley.
Pizza and French Fry by Ruchira Khanna
“Yeah! I am getting the hang of it!” Sasha shouted with glee while raising her two hands to get the attention of her instructor who was quite a stretch away.
“Continue!” shouted the elated instructor from a distance, “but make sure your poles are on the ground when you make a wedge or move forward.
“Teaching always makes me crave for fast food!” murmured the instructor just as her beginner students were focussing on building their ski technique repertoire to become a more advanced skier courtesy the food that is favorite for all.
Pups on Ice (from Miracle of Ducks) by Charli Mills
Garan blew past Danni, kicking up clumps of powder from the recent snowstorm. When he hit the ice, all four paws skittered, and he crashed to his chest, sliding across the smooth expanse.
Danni let out a hoot, and the herd of German Short-haired puppies slowed their bumbling approach to the ice. They pestered their mother, Det and yipped at their father who scrambled to gain traction on the pond. The runt took a bold step, then slipped on the glazed surface.
One bumped another, and then the chase-slipping began. Danni laughed, the only audience to Pups on Ice.
On Thin Ice by Michael Fishman
“Wait here,” I said skating backwards away from her.
“Bobby, what are—”
I smiled and skated until I reached the bench where we’d stashed our jackets. I turned, stepped over the snow berm and reached into the pocket of my jacket pulling out the box with the ring.
Yes, THE ring.
Hotdogging back to her; bent at the waist, left leg extended out behind me, right arm extended in front. I didn’t see the tight crack and tripped.
The ring dropped and we both slid across the ice, stopping at her feet.
Red-faced, I looked up. “Will you?”
OTZI by Bill Engleson
I think of the night,
The cutting eyes of night
And sometimes in my fright
When nothing seems quite right,
When the topsy turvy globe
Is spinning like a strobe,
I fall down on the earth,
Recall my accidental birth,
nothing really planned,
for I was not much more
Than a prehistoric man,
Lost in a primeval land,
Trekking deep in snow,
Wind, ripping through my skin,
Ice crystals dangling,
The chill, damp grave cold,
Slipping deeper still,
Clawing my way back,
The night, deadly black,
that need to sleep,
The need to weep
To fall into ice
Hoarfrost by Colleen Chesebro
cooling, freezing, frosting
intense biting frosty water
I gazed at the lacy hoarfrost wrought in outlines of filigree angels permeating the inside of the cabin’s window panes. If the cold hadn’t been so deadly the rime might be considered picturesque. But not today. The freeze had descended quickly, and we were unprepared for the penetrating chill. Our fire had burned down to a gray ash. A layer of frost concealed the blanket covering our bodies. Deep sleep hovered. My eyes closed knowing the end was near. My last thoughts conceded that climate change was real.
Ice by Sonia
Two leviathans square up in the mid Atlantic. One, warmed by the sun, snakes her way North moving fluidly to a samba beat. The other, solid, cold, has yielded a little further each year, letting his opponent further and further in.
All seems lost, as warmth stretches inquisitive fingers into icy crevasses.
Fingers overextend their reach, the trap is sprung; Samba is caught.
Feathered crystals of ice grasp fingers, turning them blue, dragging them into the abyss.
Creaks and groans of pack ice herald the victor who turns a cruel gaze south as a new Ice Age begins.
Awakenings by Jan Malique
We feel the arrival of life and welcome the time of awakening.
Our existence has been poised between neither here nor there, but in a place of abeyance.
Ice bound have we been so far but the warmth of the Life Giver now embraces us.
Who are we? We are holders of the Earth’s memories, recorders of ages, and matrix of life.
Our essence runs through your veins, feeds your inner landscape, and upholds your purity.
Hear our song as we unfold from our binding, flow with the breath of regeneration.
Listen well humans, we bring you hidden messages.
Ice by Ritu Bhathal
As she poured the scotch, Paula could hear the cracks as the warmth of the liquid began the melting of the ice cubes in the tumbler.
If only she could be like that drink, and her presence the liquid that slowly caused the ice around his heart to melt…
She didn’t know why he was so cold towards her, they’d barely spoken twice, since he started coming to the bar where she worked, but she was determined.He was a good looking guy, and by all appearances, well off too.
And she was a girl who needed looking after…
New Beginnings? by JulesPaige
Geegee waited at the bus stop. Not really needing to go
anywhere. It had been a long cold winter and this spring
day it just felt good to get out of her apartment. She was
staring so intently at the crocus sprouting from the side-
walk that she almost missed his ‘ice-breaker’…
“Mighty fine day we’re having after all isn’t it Ma’am,”
Leroy gently rested his old body with respectable space
between them. “Glory be, that’s one bulb caught between
a rock n’ a hard place ain’t it?”
“Well sure enough it is!” Geegee looked toward Leroy
Evolution on Ice by Molly Stevens
There was skepticism in the beginning – accusations of exaggeration and ‘fake news.’ But the facts were indisputable when experts examined the newborn. They confirmed a dramatic evolutionary adaptation for humans living in cold climates.
Was it a natural genetic anomaly, or did scientists monkey with DNA? No one can say for sure since no volunteers were willing to go to Siberia to scrutinize their ethics.
Whatever the circumstances, a worldwide celebratory cheer resounded at the prospect of eliminating injuries from falls on ice. A baby was born brandishing the first biological cleats on the soles of his feet.
Ice by Rebecca Glaessner
“It’s ready. Transferring now,” says the VR technician.
“Thanks,” I say, studying the new data floating in my vision.
I equip a well-worn headset.
Ripples of code give way to a silent darkness, only a lone light shines from behind onto icy ground. I’m pulled along by a gradual acceleration, subtle but present.
A chunk of ice breaks and passes by amongst shimmering dust.
I watch it disappear.
Behind, I see the ship, my body somewhere inside, on the bridge, watching this drone study this icy world.
“Now we can walk on comets,” I say, taking a step.
Ice Hotel by Anne Goodwin
Grandmother promised we’d visit the ice hotel. When I was old enough to drink vodka from a glass made of ice. But at eighteen I hung out with friends, so Grandmother went alone. And never returned.
Twenty years on, the ice is melting. The sleigh ride to the hotel holds no romance for a lone divorcee. Will I manage to sleep on a block of ice draped with reindeer hides? Will I discover what happened to Gran?
The huskies stop, barking furiously. No sign of the hotel. What’s that? A body, they say, floating beneath the ice.
A Cold Encounter by Lisa Listwa
Such strange warmth for this time of year.
Ice is still thick on the lake, a dull mirror for the fog that hovers inches above the surface. Dense and disconcerting, it blurs the distinction between earth and sky. The shroud makes dusk of midday. What am I not supposed to see?
The silhouette of a vulture materializes across the field. Perched on the fencepost at the edge of the neighboring property, he sits far too close to the house.
Fear is illogical – death eaters consume only what is already gone.
Still, I shiver.
His stare is an icy blade.
Too Many Secrets, Rachael by Eric Pone
Ducky stood at end of the frozen lake watching the young lady in front of him skate. He noticed his target right away as the man approached. Ducky noticed the knife as well. Ducky smiled as he locked the suppressor. “So stupid.” Depressing the trigger, the man hardly noticed the round enter his head and spraying brain matter over the ice. As the skater turned to look at Ducky the happy yet relieved face of Piper Hunter smiled at him. “Rachael needs to stop with the secrets.” He said to himself and the two walked back to the car.
Church Social by Denise Aileen DeVries
Bitty Johnson, the pastor’s wife, pulled Myra Jean and Lucinda aside as they were leaving church. They exchanged worried glances. She had already “volunteered” them to teach Sunday school. “I hope you can both come to the ice cream social next week.”
“Do you need someone to chip ice?” Myra Jean asked.
“Or to turn the crank?” asked Lucinda. “… help serve?”
“No, no,” laughed Bitty. “Burt from the ice house takes care of that. The Ladies’ Guild brings the flavorings and serves. We’ve been doing this for years. But you know what? Every year, we make too much!”
Piereced by Pete Fanning
The ice water dribbled down Amelia’s palm, over her wrist and snaked down the inside of her forearm. She wiped her arm on her side, eyeing the point of the safety pin in Karissa’s hand.
“Amelia, relax,” said Julie. “You’re going to faint.”
“I’m fine,” Amelia said. She blinked, smiled, she swallowed dry. She reached for another ice cube in the bowl. Dripping as she set it to her ear. Another glance at the safety pin, looking not so safe but eager to stab, puncture, wound. And her ear, it was not numb.
She was supposed to be numb.
Scotch on the Rocks by Kay Kingsley
He sat at the rear of the bar, near the backdoor propped open by a chair, the perfect exit into the alley if it came to that.
The air was humid, smoke hanging as thick as the blues playing in the background. He was restless, the woman at the bar breaking his concentration. He wove the idea of her dress crumpled on his bedroom floor into the plan he was forming to rob the bar.
He approaches, close enough to smell her perfume, and orders a scotch on the rocks, hoping the ice would cool the heat between them.
Ice by Susan Sleggs
“My goodness, I’ve never seen such ice sculptures at a wedding. The liquor bottles are nestled in a huge block and the swans look like they could just up and fly away.”
“Ostentatious waste! If the bride turns into her mother the ice will be flowing in her veins.”
“For crying out loud, give them a chance before you predict their doom.”
“The groom’s already done that. I saw him last night kissing one of the bride’s maids.”
“A congratulatory kiss I’ll wager.”
“No, a long kiss with hands roving that would melt all the ice in this room.”
Ice Ice Baby by Anurag Bakhshi
“Ice tea?” I asked, attempting to break the ice in our once warm relationship.
“Just sign the damn papers,” she replied in an ice-cold voice.
“I beg you to reconsider…” I put aside all pretense of dignity now, but her countenance froze my blood like ice.
I signed wordlessly, and satisfied that she had full ownership of my jewelry shop, she got up imperiously, like a Ice Queen…and stabbed me right through the heart.
I should have known I was skating on thin ice when I sold ice instead of real diamonds to my oldest client, Beatrix Lestrange.
Colder Than Ice by Tasheenga
Romantic notions in a young maidens head,
Seeking out her kindred spirit, gullible and blithe.
She watched the man across the room, eyes met,
Her’s green like precious emeralds, his were icy blue.
So began his obsession, his something new,
A faithful damsel to fuel his insolence.
He stole her soul and beat it down,
She became a prisoner in his petulant world.
Two thousand days of torment and suffering
In the heavy hands of a furious man.
Void of compassion, frost in his veins,
His heart was colder than ice.
Freedom for the maiden came with a price!
Ice by Kim Blade
“I don’t care what you want, you are not getting anything.
The only reason I married you in the first place was to have a pretty mother for my children and a housekeeper.
But what a let down you have been in both these roles.
Unfortunately the children seem to have inherited much of your useless personality and your housekeeping accomplishments leave a lot to be desired.”
At these familiar words, delivered in a voice filled with comtempt; Tracy’s chest constricted and her vision blurred
The cold dislike in his voice was reinforced by the ice in his eyes.
Blues by Reena Saxena
It was the first time she had seen ice and experienced freezing temperatures. The excitement gradually turned to fear, as her skin turned bluish and a strange numbness overtook her body. The snow was bad enough, and she was not aware that her coffee was spiked with lethal stuff.
She was the heiress to a fortune. Some pictures floated in her mind, as she lost consciousness – her husband’s insistence on honeymooning in Switzerland, asking about her financial assets, and his expression on seeing her fall in the snow.
The distance between them had been growing, and was now – UNBRIDGEABLE.
The Final Show by Juliet Nubel
Her makeup was all wrong. How could his father have let someone smear on that gawdy lipstick and pink blusher? This woman looked like an aging Russian doll, not his dear, dead mother.
As more visitors entered the darkened room the humming continued. How many of them realised she was lying on a freezer, its dull whirring working hard to keep away the onset of decomposure.
She would have hated this final viewing. All these people, all this sad music.
This was his father’s doing. A final attempt to make things right. This was his show – Guilt on Ice.
Small Victory? by JulesPaige
The icy stare was one Joyce would not soon forget. One of
those “how dare you even think of talking to someone ‘I’
might have been interested in”.
Joyce and Reggie were downstairs snuggling up on the
couch on the north wall, when Emma, halfway down the
stairs vocalized a hello that could have frozen Lake Superior
in the middle of the summer.
The sisters were never close, now there was a new
unspoken wall that registered as a minor triumph for
Joyce. As Emma stomped back up stairs, Joyce
was warmed by victory as well as Reggie’s hugs.
Iced by CalmKate
As a new graduate I had asked for the basic jobs but as I was mature aged they expected more. When I saw the policeman on alert outside his door I knew this wouldn’t be an easy one.
A tough tattooed nineteen year old was bragging that he hadn’t killed anyone. Off his face he had crashed into a car carrying a family of four. His second serious motor vehicle accident and he was cocky.
I let rip about endangering others lives and that he needed to take responsibility … he had been on ice since he was eleven!
Dreams on Ice by Heather Gonzalez
As the bourbon disappeared from the glass, the ice began to clink as Samuel rhythmically swayed his hand to the national anthem on tv. No one around here would know it, but Samuel was once on his way to Olympics himself.
Decades ago when he first started letting his drinking get out of control, he had one or five too many before a qualifying match. His actions on the ice that day ruined his hockey career forever. Now the best he can do is sit in his usual spot at the bar and watch other people achieve his dream.
Breakthrough by Kathryn Evans
Rinkside, several onlookers have gathered. Must make it, must, must! Her platinum blonde hair is gathered into a messy bun, athletic build revealed by a lime green skating dress. She accelerates as she skims through on narrow blades. Focusing her gaze at a spot on the ice, she bends her right leg and shoots upwards, propelled by powerful thigh muscles. A pirouette high above comfort zone, safely landed: her first complete jump. Hearing spontaneous applause, she breaks into a beaming smile revealing teeth as white as the Dover cliffs. Today, a single loop – in four years, the winter Olympics.
Iced by Geoff Le Pard
‘Hey Logan, you got any ice?’
‘Sure. Bottom drawer of the freezer. What you want it for?’
‘A bath. This guy said it’s good.’
‘I think ice is the devil’s work, Morgan.’
‘You been puffing the wacky-backy, dude?’
‘No. Maybe. A couple. Anyhoo, how come it floats on its liquid self…’
‘And it’s like totally cold and can burn you?’
‘And you can stick you face onto an ice box like mega-glue and still slip over on the stuff like frozen oil?’
‘Like a politician’s promise.’
‘That’s a shit analogy, Logan.’