Tales of Frosty Lake: Part 1

Friend wading in the water with the acrylic blue hat on, to youm I send the strikings of the hammer dulcimer. And you turn with a toothy smile and doughy face like a plate of uncooked dinner rolls.

Friend, I call out to you but it sounds like an underwater bugle. You hear it clearly. And thus you turn the head and the sun shines full light upon that doughy face. And I see imitation hair peeking from out of the sides of that strict derby cap. A too small cap for a head that size but very posh. Yet, certainly uncomfortable in this breeze. This porous breeze.

The hair: a galaxy of waxy yellow-orange curls. Tropical fudge spilled out in frozen waves.