The cliche remade

11 pm, my uncle recieves this SMS on his phone:

Mrozu nima, śniegu nima,
Gdzie ta pierdolona źima.
Sanki kurwa zardzewiały,
Nary też się rozjebały.
Tylko deszczyk pada z nieba,
więc się dzisiaj nachlać trzeba

Frost there's none,
Snow there's none,
Where's the fucking winter gone.
Arsehole snowsled's come and rusted,
Ski's are also fucking busted.
Only drizzle from the sky,
Getting hammered must come neigh.

Sums up the weather.

We're sitting in the woodkeeper's house in the middle of a forest. After half a litre of vodka and it's a New Year. I get ushered outside and somehow end up with a double barrel shotgun and a box of shells in my hands.