Why did I agree to this?
Because your getting fat and more importantly you know it.
And, ya lazy bastard this gives you an opportunity to correct that state of being.
What state? Me being fat? Or me being a lazy bastard?
Christ on a pogo stick! Why didn’t you take me to Red Rock? I don’t mind getting off the couch per see, but I was hoping for some bouldering, whilst looking at one of those sexy female tour guides out of Blue Diamond; instead you drag me out to Blue Diamond the mountain itself.
You know all I am hearing from behind me is sniveling.
You said it yourself, I am a fat lazy bastard.
Yes we have established those facts. What I failed to ascertain was in your dotage you have also become a sniveling dirt-bag as well.
Your majesty, you would be sniveling too, if your best friend woke you up at o’dark thirty in the morning, dragged you out of bed, then made you carry enough rope to tie down King Kong, and then made you go on some up-hill Bataan death march.
Sorry I can’t hear you. It is all pops and whistles. I can’t hear past the wheezing coming from your smokers corrupted lungs.
No! That would be asshole. I knew my father, unlike you…
The trail grew ever steeper. So steep in fact, conversation came to an abrupt ending, as both men needed to concentrate in order to keep from falling. For long periods of time, the only noises that could be heard were the sounds of blue granite pebbles dislodged from the trail, as they tumbled down the steep slopes of the mountain; with a counter point of gasps, and grunts coming from the two men. Eventually their efforts found them a 1000ft higher on the trail, and at wide spot where old growth Ponderosa Pines had once been hit by a large object, snapping them off several feet from above the trail.
OK! This is it.
<Gasping> This is where butthead?
That’s Mr. Butthead to you, my good fellow. We are currently 300 ft. above where Carole Lombard died. Her Vega twin engine smacked into that knob behind us, bounced down through several trees, hit the two Ponderosa pines in front of us and plunged head first down the ravine on the other side of those trees. Most of the cabin managed to wedge itself into a vertical crack, while the wings peeled off and along with the engines burned their way down to gully below.
Damn and Blast! I would not have wanted to have been Clark Gable.
No neither would I. He requested every dangerous combat mission he could, after this.
What do you mean?
Clark was a bombardier-air crew in the Army Air Corp. during WWII.
The two men set about tying their ropes off to secure anchorage points, getting into their climbing harness’ and putting on their safety helmets.
So why did you bring me here again?
‘Cause you needed to get off the couch and I thought with your love of history, you might just like to see a bit of the stuff right in front of your face.
Besides I thought that if, I got lucky, I might be able to score a bit of the airplane for myself.
You’re a ghoul.
Yes! Yes I am. But I am a ghoul with an interesting collection of historical items.
A northern wind swept the mountainside, gently rocking the two men as they descended the cliff face. From a distance they looked like two overly large spiders in search of prey.