Comrade Father Antinov, I vow to throw many snowballs at the cold ear members of Detroit.  

LittleSi and SlimRagnarok shall be pelted with as many yellow snowballs as I can muster.

I need to start hydrating now to ensure there is enough in the tank when we go to battle.

For the Motherland.

Nike sips on his mulled wine and cleans his face paint off. 'hmm that is better'

As the snow drops from the sky he sees teams of people rolling up snow balls and wonders what all the noise is about. He takes another sip of his wine and has a little snooze in preparation of watching the battle unfold

With the blatant disrespect to my semi useful friend Nike I will be totally and completely considering not joining any sides in this war.

Honestly, He probably deserves it, and I hate the cold.

This was a completely meaningless statement, I really just wanted to act like I was sticking up for my friend

I am extremely full. It is Christmas after all, and I have indulged. Pigs in blankets have frolicked from fork to mouth, the gravy boat has emptied its content onto my plate as quickly as it has been filled, and roast potatoes have fought tooth and nail with various cuts of poultry to sit at the place of honour in the pit of my stomach. Imagine then my dismay, as I loll on the couch in Swansong Central, gluttonous appetite finally sated and a tree trunk of a poo brewing but not quite needing to be wrestled down the toilet yet, finally comfortable, only to discover I have been called out and must venture to the Streets. 

My sigh, almost as large as my belly has become, is only amplified when I am told it is TonyTheTailor who issues the challenge. TonyTheTailor, or Poor Man's Matt, as he is commonly referred to during the 'Most Punchable Face' section of the weekly 12th Street Public Toilet Gab and Go - a time where the proud residents of Detroit evacuate both their bowel and their soul - should be ashamed of himself. A once proud American seduced by eastern dogs into polluting our great nation with communist dross. He wears a stupid hat to compliment his stupid face and now he issues stupid challenges which will see him stomped into stupid little pieces.

And who are the merry band of dorks who come to help Snow Shite upon this foolish adventure? Shane_Stetson, reviled slayer of Handsome George, as likely to be spat upon in Detroit as he is to be hit with a snowball. DarwinRoss, Father Time's liver spot. @DeanWinchester, as unfashionable as he is HQless. And 6 others, presumably necessary to keep PlagueDoctor from tattling to Mummy that the snow is cold when the first one cracks his skull. Absolutely pathetic. Every single one of you better pay your Stupid Hat Tax upon entry too or so help me every snowball I roll is going to have a stone in the middle of it. 

Having my kin being recently gunned down out of nowhere, he never actually got to receive his “stupid hat”. In fact, he’s still missing out on a lot of things, perhaps a little more now that he was wiped off the face of the earth, and I am personally now no better than your common street trash.

Who knows what my father did? Perhaps it doesn’t matter now. Philadelphia turned out to be dangerous. Plenty of others being shot apart there, and the killers conveniently are never found. Time will tell though.

The real thing to note here though is that the snowball fight shall not be any less productive even with such a major setback. I’ve got snow to throw and people to pelt. Pettiness is the name of the game…and now I’ve got all the reason in the world to be as petty as possible.

You could gang up on me, but I’ll come back. You could drown me in snow, but I’ll reheat. And you can shoot my father in the face for…reasons I still am not sure of yet, but I’ll be damned if I let my lineage roll over and give up.

Times are changing. Things are tweaking. We all saw the writing on the wall, what with lightning flashes from the gods striking down aplenty just after Christmas was coming to a close.

You really think you can dispose of me that easily? You really thought it would be that simple? I’m just getting started.

It's a good thing you're fat, Slim. It'll make turning you into a snowman much easier. We'll get to roll you around like they do at those little ice cream shops, then leave you out during the day to melt just like your ego will.

I know five fat people, and you're four of them, SlimRagnarok. 

Dixxon was always a betting man. He couldn't resist himself for a good bet!

"Where do we place bets on the winners?" he asked.

Nice to see a fat joke being thrown out and big beluga not being the butt of the joke for once.

Tussyy sits quietly in the corner where he had been observing the kerfuffle taking place. He was used to seeing frenzied activity in short bursts, however seldom heard the declaration of 'War'. Nevertheless, he would not stand for the insolence taking place of insulting Ushankas by filthy Cold Ears!

'Worry not, Comrade TonyTheTailor - flying under the radar has kept me alive for a long time! I do not, however, condone the unspeakable atrocities that have come from Detroit!'

He spits onto the ground with a grunt.

'If it is a war they want, it is a war they shall have!'

Don Stetson arrives in Detroit, feeling the cold, brisk air. He holsters his pistol, and pulls out his gloves. Ensuring his ears are nice and toasty underneath his ushanka hat, he scoops the snow with his hand, crafts a snowball and lets out a big smirk. He looks into the distance and spots his Comrades. He walks toward them.

"Let's do this, comrades!" he yells to them.

LittleSi, please tell us more about this giant poo you are creating. If the Snow Ball war goes badly will you consider flinging faeces?