Chapter 20

Jonah hears Willa call out from the kitchen, “Will someone get the door! I have my arm deep inside a turkey’s asshole!”

“Hold on! I got it,” Jonah yells back, dashing down the stairs to the front door. The bottoms of his bare feet thumpity-thump-thump-thumpon the steps. He comes to the bottom of the stairs, faces the door, turns the brass knob, and pulls it open.

The snowy tempest sweeps across his face and burns his cheeks, neck, and forehead. A stinging sensation slaps his lips and eyes. Then terror strikes him, rushing through his pulsing veins. Jonah takes an immediate step backwards, almost stumbling to the floor. In doing so, he lets out a girlish yelp.

On the porch stands a giant snowman: six-one, three real-looking snowballs, red scarf, seven-inch carrot as a nose, black buttons as eyes, coal-like pieces as a mouth, and a black top hat that maybe Abraham Lincoln sported back in the day. The snowman says, “Jonah,” and bobs left and right. “Jonah Icicle.”