Curing General Nice Ice’s Freezer Burn

Old General Nice Ice had an awful case of freezer burn.

The happy look he once bore on his face had grown quite stern.

His hair wore icicles. His cheeks, white as a polar bear,

Had lost their rosy hue and had no cheerfulness to share.


Stiff arms and legs bore witness to a once-soft-heart turned hard.

His lips were purple when they found him standing in his yard.

Of course they took him to Thaw Hospital to be defrosted.

But could it be too late for him? Had he already “lost it”?


Good doctor Cool Breeze wouldn’t touch him with a ten-foot pole.

It had to be eleven feet. The tip was very cold.

Breeze took the stiff man’s temperature and wouldn’t give it back,

For it read minus zero, colder than a frozen snack.


When asked to stick his tongue out, he could not even say “Blah,”

Because the freezer burn held him so tightly in its claw.

“At least it’s better than lukewarm,” the doctor stated with voice grim.

“Crank up the thaw machine and shine a beam of heat on him.”


The nurses rushed to do that, with a little slow success.

Soon Nice Ice could move his jaws. However, he showed signs of stress.

But now that he could talk, the doctor asked about the root,

What made him sick so that his system now required a reboot.


“Your freezer burn contains an ice, which shows up all your flaws.

It seems you have Pride flu. Could you illuminate the cause?

What is the last heroic deed you did before this hit?

Did someone spray hot sauce on you or throw a nasty fit?”


Snowflakes popped up in different places on the golden floor.

The patient’s eyes shot icicles too glaring to ignore.

“How do you dare imply such petty things could get my goat?”

The anger on his face was like the berg that sunk the boat.


The doctor tried again. “Please sir, I beg. Don’t be offended.

Those are the questions that my fellow doctors recommended.

It’s nothing personal, but you are in stage three denial.

Your friends don’t want to see you die.  They miss your happy smile.”


The general relaxed a bit. “Volcano Man. It’s he.

He spewed a stream of lava, but I froze it expertly.

It wasn’t easy. No one helped me. No one even cared.

The villain was so evil and the victims were so scared.”


“The helicopter I was flying, no one else could man.

No co-pilot is qualified to lend this guy a hand.

I shall not relegate such work to some unworthy slob.

I am the multi-tasker, and I did a bang-up job.


Through blasts of hot disgust and wild opinion smoke I steered,

While blowing freeze breath out the window, from his rants I veered.

I used my supersonic voice to tell the crowd to freeze

While I made ice of lava, but their fear it did not ease.


“The people were too stubborn and they would not heed my voice.

And that is why, you see, I have no reason to rejoice.

I stuck my neck out for them, but received no gratitude.

All I got from them was one big stinking attitude.”


“They said they didn’t like the way that I looked down on them.

‘We are not little kids,’ they said. ‘We want to be your friend.’

But who would not act better than those folks if they were me?

The fire I put out was growing exponentially.”


“I saved those lazy victims, but my role is now reversed.

Now I’m the one in need of rescuing and I feel cursed.

I’m sick because I just asked them to listen and obey.

But they refused. It makes me mad. This cold won’t go away.”


“If you’ll take my prescription, then it will,” the doctor said.

“First off, to cure this flu requires a chill pill for your head.

So ditch your disappointment. Everybody makes mistakes.

To know you’re not their Savior is the way to cure your aches. ”


“Rest in His finished work. That’s the best way to heal your heart.

You do not need a podium to demonstrate your art.

The warmth that you require does not depend on recognition.

What you need is a merry heart to make a smooth transition.”


“To think on good things, not on bad, will bring more joy to you.

To welcome co-pilots can melt the ice in which you stew.

A slice of humble pie will help dissolve your isolation

And turn your freezer burn into a wondrous ‘ice elation.'”





Author: C R Flamingbush

C.R. Flamingbush grew up in Wheaton, Illinois and graduated from Georgetown University with a degree in German and linguistics. After working seven years for the Department of Defense (an easy job), she took on the most difficult challenge in the world: a lifetime career of raising four children. Along the way she developed a passion for writing Christian superhero fantasy. She enjoys humor because it's Biblical (see the second psalm) and she loves to make people laugh - whether through her writings, her art, or just by being herself. Writing fantasy is her way of poking fun at human foibles and all the ridiculous ideas that so easily beset the human race, while at the same time honoring God in every way she can. Flamingbush has been a member of Faithwriters since 2010, and several of her winning contest entries have been published by Fresh Air Press. She likes Fan Story and has been a Narnia fan since the age of ten. In terms of influence, she aspires to be the next C.S. Lewis but has quite a ways to go in that regard. Speed of Sight, a Superhero Adventure, is her first novel. A sequel is in the works.

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