Wednesday, May 6, 2015
A mountain of advice
'Just because a man has never climbed a mountain, at least not one of any outstanding reputation for difficulty it relation to grades of gradient in regards to ascending said mountain, does not make them THAT much less of a man, being a man comes from fucking whores' He said, to the small boy sitting next to him on the large train.
Large compared to the boy at least. Size being a very important detail when dealing with small people, small being right there in their description - 'small boy' - and this particular boy turned out to be self-conscience and worried about his relative size.
The man had started out attempting to tell an inspirational tale to inspire the kid, a story about how size didn't matter, using mountain climbing as an analogous, but he'd accidentally gotten off path, 'much like mountain climbers who would soon be dead from exposure to the elements, as in the elements that pissed off the bears so much that they ate the climbers FEET first! "Ouch, um, ouwwee, my face is delicious, I swear little bear, grunt, try my face please, ouchie' they'd be quoted as saying, as the bear polished off a foot and started munching on shin bone. 'I don't know why the ranger was so determined to write down the quotes accurately, including every ouch and grunt, instead of using his tranquilizer gun on the bear, yet he didn't seem to care about writing down how that bear enjoyed the shin bone. For some reason I think shin would be one of the least tasty bones, but then maybe the marrow makes it worth it'.
The man was still far off what was appropriate to say to a small boy, especially when attempting to inspire him. But bears eating humans was better than talking to him about whores.
'I once made a whore eat out my asshole' he concluded.
Oh man, I spoke too soon.
'What's a whore?' Asked the small boy.
'Well son, that's a woman with a huge worn out vagina' the man replied, trying to help, and making use of that size detail that I agree that I had pointed out was important to small boys, but still, wildly inappropriate. Just be fucking inspiring. It's not that hard.
'But love comes in all shapes and sizes' he added, again using size as a point of reference, and admittedly getting closer to wise words.
'But never fall in love with your whore boy' he continued. Really just totally failing in pretty much the only rule in the world that surely no one could fail in - don't talk about whores with stranger's kids. Or any kids.
'Just climb fucking Mt Kosiosko for fuck sake. It's the tallest mountain in Australia, a huge continent, but piss easy, I know a whore with meth teeth who's done it' he said. 'And I'm sorry I keep talking about whores, but I'm an angry little man, with little going for me in life, only a tiny home, small cock, and minuscule existence, they're all I've got' he said, with small tears welling up in his little eyes.
He'd now said it all. The little boy knew it for sure now. Size was all that was important. He'd taken a big chance and run away from home, hoping to see a huge hole - a valley. He was already doing better than this man. 'Plus maybe I could fuck a whore on this trip and lose my virginity in a smaller amount of time than anyone else at school' he thought, having learned all he could from the man.
I'd been watching this all go down. For some reason concerned with writing it all down instead of using my tranquilizer gun on the man. But for once I felt part of something. I'd learned something. This was my mountain.
The train pulled up at the mattahorn, which is right next to a valley. The old man met a whore who gave him syphalis and his nose fell off. The kid took a small fall on a little slope, fell between a tiny crack and died of exposure, exposure being the what pissed off the wolf who ate him.