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SAN BERNADINO, CA — Laying in a misshapen heap amidst a pile of decorative rocks, a local inflatable snowman began questioning why he even exists at all.

Inflating and deflating each day in a cultural milieu of post-Christian relativism, the snowman struggled to articulate the purpose of why he or the nearby Minion with a Santa hat had been given being in the first place.

“Each day, rising and falling again at the exact same time, in the exact same place. Where am I going? What is it all for?” pondered the snowman. “What is the north star of objective truth and meaning upon which an inflatable snowman may fix his faux-coal eyes? It seems Nietschze was right. Hope is indeed the rainbow over the rushing stream of my life.”

At publishing time, the snowman had been comforted by the words of G.K. Chesterton: “It might be true that the sun rises regularly because he never gets tired of rising. His routine might be due, not to a lifelessness, but to a rush of life… God is strong enough to exult in monotony. It is possible that God says every morning, ‘Do it again’ to the sun.”

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