Maybe, may I beg of you, to recall the most subtly enthralling, most ambient day you have ever experienced. Then include in this imagining the most fluid and fulfilling improvised jazz you've never heard. Consider the name "Vivian". If you would, bounce back and forth between the rolling, jumping, swinging endless captivation, and the name: "Vivian". Allow the phonetics vi-vi-en to conjugate with the melodies and dip and rise with the beats and turn inside out with the key changes. Feel the way this name embodies the life.

A woman by this name and this nature is said to have suddenly become bulgingly pregnant the instant a snowflake touched upon her head, as she strolled toward the High Horse of downtown Amherst. This flake marked the onset of our recent storm, and it began a countdown from 20. At the head of each second from that moment onward, the head of the High Horse’s mascott beckoned the time remaining.

"20 nay"
"19 nay"
"18 nay"...
And so on.

Vivian's water burst at 10.

"9 nay"
"8 nay"
"7 nay". The High Horse looked to the sky, nervous and in anticipation.
"6 nayyy"
"5 nayyy"
"4 nayyy". The High horse got into a bit of a tizzy.
"3 nay 3! 3! THREE!".
"TWO!!!!" ---- relief.

A massive spoon reaching down from the clouds scooped Vivian into the sky.. Left was the High Horse of Amherst, finally calm and with beads of sweat freezing on his forehead.

The storm soon escalated to the point of zero visibility. Traffic stopped, and the whole town was canceled for the day.

The following morning, when the storm cleared, bulging Vivian was spotted in a 4-legged bath tub in the center of the main intersection in Amherst. She was naked and in the tub full of warm water in spite of the cold air around her. She was confused and afraid.

The High Horse nudged next door neightbor Lawyer Alan Sharpe, who possesses training in medicine, to move from his office above main street where he had been snowed in the night prior, down to the ground level. Alan Sharpe trudged through the deep snow, and eventually made it to Vivian's side.

He aided her in the birthing process. "Push", he urged her, "push!" She did, and what she produced was a cubic foot block of ice. It was green and mineral rich. It floated buoyant in the warm tub. It was so cold, it began to solidify the water around it.

Mr. Sharpe carried Vivian to warm safety in his office.

There is talk that a child does lie deep inside the mineral cube. This talk is talk, though. Thus far, the cube has been kept inside the restaurant’s refrigerator.

There is conflict regarding the question of whether or not it ought to be thawed.

Vivian visits her product of birth on occasion and dribbles drops of Sriracha sauce upon it. When asked why she does this, she stares intensely into the eyes of the asker for just one moment, says nothing, and continues to drip-drop Sriracha.

The High Horse mascot has had its head on a swivel ever since, paranoid for some reason.

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