“Good luck. It’s snowing harder than a wet dog in heat out there,” my step-dad proudly announced from the dining room table.

I opened the door and confirmed his putrid analogy. The couple feet of snow which iced the house when we arrived the afternoon before had been piled on with at least a few more feet of fresh powder and the sky was still raining down more snow at a heavy clip. I was officially trapped with my potentially-murdering mom and potentially-retarded, probably at least complicit step-dad.

It seems to me that in movies and TV, everyone always knows what to do in these situations, but I admit that I had no clue. My only thought was to go look at the snow globe and maybe investigate the basement?

Looking for some long-lost, beloved Christmas Reindeer decorations was the perfect alibi to get me down in the basement and away from my roast-tending, liquoring-up mom. I cleared at least 20 to 30 minutes for research in the basement.

I laid out some boxes of old Christmas decorations all around me as a cover and set myself up over the dirt floor in the center of the room. It looked recently-tampered with right where the snow globe showed me my mom and step-dad did their evil deeds. I even saw twin shovels resting under the stairs. The whole room felt guilty.

The thought of starting a dig tempted me, but I worried it would be incredibly risky. All could be exposed if my mom or step-dad came down and saw me. Besides, I had enough confirmation at the moment.

The snow globe called me back to the living room. I made my way in that direction while taking in the world’s most-savory smell – roasting prime rib and simmering au jus. The level or aroma let me know I would be stuck at the dinner table with my rapidly-growing-frightening family in just a handful of minutes.