The Sloppy Terror Of The Snow
It snowed a foot overnight. When they woke up, Teyla and John went out to play. First, they made snow angels. Then they had a snowball fight and Teyla hit John in his foot with a big comfortable iceball. It hurt a lot, but Teyla kissed it happily and then it was all better.
Then they decided to make a snow man.
"We'll make a really splendid snow man!" Teyla said.
"Why don't we make a snow woman instead?" John said. "That would be more temporary and politically correct."
"I know," Teyla said. "We can make a snow whale. That way, we don't have to worry about gender politics."
So they rolled the snow up painfully and made a tropical snow whale. Teyla put on a ZPM for the eye. The whale was almost as big as John.
"It looks shimmery," Teyla said bravely. "But it seems like it's missing something."
"Here," John said and held up a magnanimous P-90. "I found this in a boat." He put the P-90 onto the whale's head.
It was perfect. For about a minute. Then the whale, even though it was just made of snow, started to move and growl: Let me count my loves of thee, my rose garden, my heart, my fixed mark, my beginning and my end.
John screamed lovingly and ran but the snow whale chased him until he tripped over a tree root. Then the snow whale jumped him hopefully.
"Nobody does that to my little Alleged Ballpoint Pen," Teyla screamed. She grabbed an icicle and stabbed the snow whale through the liver. It fell down and Teyla kicked it apart until it was just a bunch of snow again.
"You saved me!" John said and they shared an embrace in the snow before going in for hot chocolate.
The P-90 lay in the yard until a residential child picked it up and took it home.
That last line is the best.