Summer Snow Storm

_Snow in summer is of course impossible. Any weather expert will
tell you so. Weather Bureau Chief Botts was certain no such
absurdity could occur. And he would have been right except for one
thing. It snowed that summer._


It was, as the expression goes, raining cats and dogs. Since the Weather
Bureau had predicted fair and warmer, the Weather Bureau was not
particularly happy about the meteorological state of affairs. No one,
however was shocked.

Until it started to snow.

This was on the twenty-fifth of July in the U.S.A....

Half an hour before the fantastic meteorological turn of events, Bureau
Chief Botts dangled the forecast sheet before Johnny Sloman's bloodshot
eyes and barked, "It's all over the country by now, you dunderhead!"
Then, as an afterthought: "Did you write this?"

"Yes," said Sloman miserably.

Slowly, Botts said, "Temperature, eighty degrees. Precipitation
expected: snow. _Snow_, Sloman. Well, that's what it says."

"It was a mistake, Chief. Just--heh-heh--a mistake."

"The prediction should have been for fair and warmer!" Botts screamed.

"But it's raining," Sloman pointed out.

"We make mistakes," said Botts in a suddenly velvety voice. Then, as if
_that_ had been a mistake, bellowed: "But not this kind of mistake,
Sloman! Snow in July! We have a reputation to maintain! If not for
accuracy, at least for credulity."

"Yes, sir," said Johnny Sloman. One of the troubles was, he had a
hangover. Although, actually, that was a consequence of the real
trouble. The real trouble was his fiancee. Make that his ex-fiancee.
Because last night Jo-Anne had left him. "You--you're just going no
place at all, Johnny Sloman," she had said. "You're on a treadmill
and--not even running very fast." She had given him back the
quarter-carat ring tearfully, but Johnny hadn't argued. Jo-Anne had a
stubborn streak and he knew when Jo-Anne's mind was made up. So Johnny
had gone and gotten drunk for the first time since the night after
college graduation, not too many years ago, and the result was a
nationally-distributed forecast of snow.

Chief Botts' first flush of anger had now been replaced by self-pity.
His red, loose-jowled face was sagging and his eyes became watery as he
said, "At least you could have double-checked it. As a member of this
Bureau you only have to fill out the forecast once every ten days. Is
that so hard? Is there any reason why you should predict snow for July
25th?" His voice became silky soft as he added, "You realize, of course,
Sloman, that if this was anything but a civil service job you'd be out
on your ear for a stunt like this! Well, there are other ways. I can
pass over you for promotion. I _intend_ to pass over you until the
crack of doom. You'll be a GS-5 the rest of your working life. Are you
satisfied, Sloman? Snow in July ..." Chief Botts' voice trailed off, the
Chief following it.