Your eyes graze the summit just ahead, and your body goes into autopilot; grasping and clambering. The rocky plane turns to a gradual incline- you need only to crawl up. Almost there.
As the slope gives way to a desolate field of rocks, you collapse onto your back. Your reward, a breathtaking view of the valley, is totally ignored as your limbs drink in their relaxed state. You squint vacantly up at billowing clouds pierced with sunlight. It's been days since you set off on this trek, and the mountain rarely flattened out enough for even a space to huddle overnight.
Just as you are getting your druthers (and then immediately pondering what druthers are), a figure stands over you, a murky silhouette blocking the sky. A rumbling slurp pierces the air. It can't be.
"Hey bud! Those are some boss workout skills." That nasal, bemused voice could only belong to two characters: a precocious Kung Fu Panda, or more likely, Jack Black; your new self-proclaimed BFF. "Is it time for a smoothie break yet? Here, it's Monkey Farts." You bat away the banana smoothie inching toward your face and push yourself to your feet. How did he find you?
Jack squints at you and takes a loud, sullen sip from the straw as he looks you up and down. He talks out of the side of his mouth, "That was like, the longest elevator ride in the history of *man kieeeend*." Slurrrrp.
Your brain flashes a scene; Jack leaning casually against the side of the elevator, checking his watch. You, clinging to the side of the mountain, avoiding disgruntled hawks.
The anger on your face should be apparent, but Jack carries on. "Anyhoo... I don't know if you're aware..." He's suddenly untangling a wad of clothes, "...but mountains are like a good groupie. The tops are often chillier than the bottoms, if ya know what I mean." He freezes and shoots an eyebrow at you. Of course, you have no idea what he means.
He says with an air of satisfaction, "I brought some snugglies, man! Take one and I'll wear the other. We'll be winter twinsies."
"Hurry up, I've got a ragin' Quantum Leap marathon to get back to, and these burritos aren't sittin' well." He pats his stomach and frowns.
Oh, Boy. No way are you getting into that elevator with him, now. It's going to be a long, cold, descent. You dust off your knees and take a good look at your choices. Jack is now using them as puppets, but you try your best. Update: voting has closed View the results...