Seasons, Ranked

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#5. Cold Windy Weeks. Please understand this. Write it down. Cold Windy Weeks is the worst time of the year. As Father Solstice bellows his nasty cold breath in our faces, many of our lips become irreversibly chapped due to the high alcohol content in his exhales. Old Man Solstice is a belligerent drunk, so finding sleep while he yells and barks can be challenging.

#4. Prangus. Prangus is the second-worst season of the whole year because of the influx of badgers that annually break into our homes and feast on our groceries. Because the badgers are migrating West in search for gold, it is a dangerous time of shooting guns and getting trapped on our roofs.

#3. Summers. This is a fine time of year, but not the best time. The positives of Summers include things like “heat” and the brand-new teeth we sprout in our bare mouths. The negatives: way too many people walk around town freely exposing their big belly buttons and ribs, and Michael W. Smith usually tries to write and perform a couple new songs. Not the worst…but not the best.

#2. Trombone. It is impossible to overstate what a beautiful time of year Trombone is. The free salad that is tossed into our cars from the sidewalk salad-distributors; government officials aren’t allowed to talk unless it they are trapped in a fire, and the bones of Teddy Roosevelt are dug up and reassembled long enough to remember sort of kind of what he may or may not have looked like since nobody was smart enough to stop him and snap a photo of his face. What a delightful time of year.

#1. Spring. What we love most about spring is the abundance of water that we all have access to because Stephen Hawking accidentally let a big secret slip: nobody will actually die if we drink the rain water that our flowers and trees catch. Yeah, you can drink right out of them like a dad gum cup. It’s magnificent! And dirty old Stephen Hawking, an atheist, was going to carry this secret to his grave. What a rube! I can’t wait for Spring already — I just want to pluck a big old daffodil, hold it up to my mouth, and drink the water pooled up in there.

I can’t wait for Spring!

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