“I love it, man,” said little dog owner Matt Andrews, 45. “My number one problem with my small dog in the winter is she doesn’t have enough places to pee. Like we’ll walk miles and miles and she won’t have anything to sniff or inspire her to lift her weird little shaved leg. But she loves this new lane.”
“I remember in our pre-shift meeting we were told to prioritize seniors,” recalled Saffron. “I thought it was strange, but I’m not one to argue with authority. So I took my phials out of the freezer and scoured the hospital for 18-year-olds.”
“Unfortunately in today’s hypercompetitive girlboss world, if you’re not on top? You’re a flop,” explains Columbia College’s professor of Flopology Truman Andrew Truman, 43. “And from what I’ve been told, Ms. Walters-Pervas polls in the bottom 5th percentile for recognizability even among women in her age cohort, the highly competitive 0–3 bracket.”
Across the city, many Chicagoans woke up not to the beeping and mechanical crunches of their usual trash trucks, but instead the cacophonous sound of hundreds of animals pulling sleds piled with garbage like that one part in How the Grinch Stole Christmas! (1966).
Palma, sent home from the hospital with a playlist called “Sad Songs To Contemplate Your Dying Plants To” and a small bag of cough drops, has been struggling to adjust to life with his new symptoms.
Snow plows — the nice city ones, not the rusty independent contractors that look like cars from Mad Max — have been keeping the affluent block around Mayor Lightfoot’s residence virtually snow free since Tuesday, taking the large volumes of snow to nearby streets like Sawyer Ave and Bernard St and placing them, somewhat gently, on cars, fire hydrants, and children.
Appearing less a humble civic utility vessel than a rime-encrusted juggernaut to the planet’s coldest reaches, this pure symbol of the resilience of the human spirit repeatedly leaped atop the thin sheet of ice covering the river and churned it beneath its tiny but powerful turbine engine.
The new project, dubbed “The Ice District” is only the first of many new projects to take advantage of all this new “land” created by the winter.
“The average Chicagoan will maintain a thick layer of 2-3 light jackets throughout the winter.” said Chigaciologist Mollie Parker, 45, from the Lake Michigan Institute of Midwestern Pathologies. “They will then begin to shed them starting in March until late May, at which point their skin will have slowly relearned how to absorb sunlight.”
The center will open with a fresh supply of Roeser’s paczki, although Ezike did not rule out the possibility of administering the Dinkel’s and Andy’s Deli varieties, once supplies become available.