The snowball was small, he had nothing special about him.
He sat high on a mountain top, frozen and content, however unsettled. Over time he had seen too many snowballs just like himself slide and fall into the flaming depths of Hell below the mountain. As time passed the snowball slid closer and closer to the precipice overlooking his own demise, knowing all along the old addage about his chances once he fell.
He didn't accept this as fact.
But he fell despite his best efforts to hang on, melting as he passed through the upper levels, losing parts of himself as he went. Melting and breaking as he drew closer to the depths below... Now down to just a flake, something funny happened... he began to rise.
Catching an updraft, now light enough to ride the currents and winds, the snowball began to see his chance in Hell. Lifted by the very heat that doomed him, our once snowball was no more than a tiny drop of condensation now held aloft miles above. He was tossed and flipped about, but the drop that he was was now changing, growing, solidifying. Evolving into a hardened piece of hail.
He had made it, He had survived. Only now he wasn't satisfied. He saw all of the snow below him and thought of how he could not only survive... but how he could beat Hell.
As he landed atop the very mountain from which he had fallen, instead of mearly waiting his turn to slide, he began to roll. Gaining in size and momentum as he went. Soon all of the snow around him clung to him, trusting him as he gained momentum. Within the blink of an eye our snowball was now an avalanche racing toward the fires that once threatened him.
The rest was fast. The avalanche was simply too much for Hell or any other force to stop. The fires went out. The snowball had won.