With chisel and hammer and long hours worked

With chisel and hammer and long hours worked till dawn. Blood encrusted fingers which ooze slowly down. Eyes that pop and hands that seize with both tongue and lips gripping

the edge of the stone monolith. It would have been easier wearing a harness and gloves but safety equipment is overrated. Preventable accidents such as

marriages are often caused by a lack of precaution. Still, a little spit and rosin on the hands should be adequate for scaling this here stone monolith. Why spend money on stuff

that's totally unnecessary like ropes and harnesses? I shook my head at the stupidity of my fellow man and began my climb up the 800 foot rock face. About half way up I remembered

I was scared of heights. But my big ego was on the line here & I couldn't back down now, either literally or figuratively. It's as if I could hear my Aunt Valetta whispering in my

my ear, "My my, they look just like ANTS down there don't they? You'd go SPLAT from this height." Memories aside, I took hold of the zip-line from the observation deck.

Anna held my wrist. "A person doesn't change because you find out more," she said. "Got to fly!" I leapt off the ferris wheel and whizzed down the wire into bombed out Vienna town

slapped a Ghost Balm patch on the back of my neck and headed into the bomb-blasted ruins. The screams I heard were only my own as I trod over treacherous footing toward my goal:

Baaing and leaping about the mountainous terrain just out of my reach. "But I'm not a ghost!" I whined. The goat started chewing on my hair and they laughed. C'est la vie.