I grab one of my snowballs. “Oxford, cover me.”
Oxford positions himself in front of me like a fluffy shield, his ears perked forward as he surveys the battlefield.
“Come on, admit it, you’re into this, aren’t you?” I whisper to him.
His tail swishes once in agreement.
Suddenly, a snowball whistles past my ear. I yelp and duck lower.
“We’re under attack!”
I peek around Oxford and see Finn creeping toward me, a snowball in each hand. Behind him, Gabe is engaged in what looks like an intense snowball fight with Everett.
“Oxford,” I whisper, “distraction maneuver?”
The llama gives me a look, then sprints directly toward Finn.
Finn freezes, clearly uncertain how to handle a charging llama. This gives me just enough time to pack three perfect snowballs and launch them, hitting him square in the chest in quick succession.
“Direct hit!” I crow, pumping my fist in the air.
Finn gasps dramatically and staggers backward, one hand clutching his chest where my snowballs hit. His other hand flies to his forehead in a theatrical gesture.
“I am hit!” he cries in an exaggerated British accent. “The light! I see the light coming for me!”
He drops to his knees, his face a mask of theatrical agony. Oxford steps back, clearly confused by this turn of events.
“Tell Gabe,” Finn continues, voice wavering as he reaches toward me with trembling fingers, “tell him that my last thoughts were of his magnificent cock.”
I’m laughing so hard I can barely stand up straight.
“I die, Horatio,” he gasps, switching characters entirely. “The potent poison quite o’er-crows my spirit!” He collapses face-first into the snow, then immediately rolls onto his back.
“The rest,” he whispers, extending his arms like a snow angel, “is silence.”
With that, he goes completely limp, tongue lolling out of his mouth comically.
Oxford approaches cautiously, sniffing at Finn’s apparently lifeless form. When Finn doesn’t move, the llama nudges him with his nose.
“He’s dead, Oxford,” I say solemnly, playing along. “The great Finn has fallen in battle.”
Oxford makes a soft humming noise that sounds suspiciously like skepticism.
Suddenly, Finn’s eyes pop open. “Actually, I’ve changed my mind. I’m Beth from Little Women now.” He coughs delicately into his hand. “I’m not afraid to die. I can be brave like you, Jo.” His voice has gone soft and sweet, his expression angelic. “Don’t cry, dear Jo. Don’t cry. I’m so happy.”
He gives one last gentle sigh, then closes his eyes again, his face a picture of peaceful acceptance.
I’m wheezing with laughter now, tears forming in the corners of my eyes. “That was… that was…”
“Oscar-worthy?” Finn supplies without opening his eyes.
“Fabulous,” I manage between giggles.
“Thank you, I’ll be here all week,” he murmurs, still playing dead. “Actually, I’m contractually obligated to stay here until New Year’s.”
A snowball whizzes past my ear, reminding me that we’re still in the middle of a battle. I dive behind Oxford just as another snowball flies by.
“Incoming!” I yell, grabbing my remaining ammunition.