Partly Cloudy, 64°
Looking forward to finding out what winter is really like, Los Angeles native Richard Tully ‘19 expressed excitement at the prospect of seeing his first ever SnowBeast, one of the towering, 45-foot tall snow monsters that prowl the northern latitudes. Tully is one of the only students in his friend group who hasn’t had at least one memorable experience standing in the shadow of a terrifying, gargantuan winter SnowBeast.
“Back home, everyone talks about their glowing blue eyes and breath that can freeze the world,” said Tully, who’s also excited for his first snowball fight. “It sounds so magical. I can hardly imagine waking up and looking out the window to see a SnowBeast doing its frigid SnowDance out on Lincoln Field. I hope my jacket’s warm enough to protect me in case it chooses me as Ambassador of the Snowflakes in the Sleet Solstice Festival.”
Tully also mentioned always wanting to build a snow fort, make a perfect snow angel and climb up a SnowBeast’s icicle beard to bask in its blustery breath. He wondered if its breath would smell more like peppermint, pine needles, or freshly killed elk.
“Richard’s making such a big deal out of this,” said Kelly Anderson, who sees SnowBeasts every winter at her dad’s house in Maine. “He’s always talking about how fun it’s going to be to track the frosty savage as it cross-country skis on enormous evergreen trees it uprooted with its ice claws. Give it a rest. That was fun when I was 10. At a certain point you just don’t want to play with a horrible snow creature anymore."
Despite the scoffs of some classmates, most students from warmer climes love to hear the beckoning Christmas roar of the SnowBeast, and there is even a tradition on campus of stealing dining hall trays to go sledding down a slumbering SnowBeast’s massive belly as it heaves tremendous SnowSnores that shake the snow gently from the tree branches.
“We don’t get real SnowBeasts at home,” explained Tully, showing off his new earmuffs. “One time in middle school we got some SnowSprites, but their wings melted within a couple days. There weren’t even enough of them to sing the Eleven Harmonies of the HailWitch.”
While he was excited for the New England winter, Tully admitted missing the thrill of surfing SunWaves in California with the blessing of King Scorch, God of Heat Mountain.
