Today’s Music: Dead South – In Hell I’ll Be In Good Company
As she put it…
It was a typical Thursday, at the end of December. Guap was back from another round of saving the world. This time that involved terrorists, twerking, that orange powder they use to coat Cheetos, and chocolate pudding.
He was taking a much needed day off (I can’t tell you how badly Cheetos dust and pudding react to each other) and decided to go skiing to celebrate the end of the year, and the approach of spring in a few months.
He made it to the top of the lift and was considering which trail to take while adjusting the bindings on his 192cm solid titanium rocket skis (a gift from the King of Montenegro) when he heard the first scream.
There was a woman – a pregnant woman, holding a baby, at the top of one of the trails – wearing rentals!
Guap ski’d over as fast as he could to see if he could help. As he got closer, he could see her expression was one of unmitigated terror! She turned at his calls, then turned again – facing straight down the mountain. She pushed off, the newborn squealing in her arms as the edges of her cheap rentals grabbed the snow and gravity propelled her down.
He raced to catch up, focusing only on helping the beleaguered damsel. He rocketed past the copse of trees where she had been, not seeing what had caused her overwhelming fear until it was too late.
A Yeti rocketed from the evergreens, it’s horde of miniature reindeer accompanying it with a fierce whuffling noise to drive fear into the hearts of men.
But Guap was made of stronger stuff. Using the snow bumps to his advantage, he skied circles around the mythical horde, raising a cloud of ice and snow to blind even the hardiest of winter nightmares. Knowing it had been beaten and that the prize of the pregnant woman and her spawn had escaped, the Yeti unleashed a mighty bellow of rage!
The bellow unsettled the precarious sheets of snow and ice resting loosely on the mountain face and they began to slide toward the base. Guap knew what he had to do.
Casting caution to the wind, he raced down the mountain, calling on all his skill and all his luck. He caught up to the pregnant woman just ahead of the cascading avalanche. He hurled himself to the surface just above her, and used his body as a snowblock to protect her from the tons of ice and snow.
She was saved.
But Guap…poor Guap. A ski glove that had been lost the previous season, spending the year being slowly encased in solid ice, was the last thing down the hill in the avalanche. It was aimed directly at the poor woman’s head. Ignoring the pain, Guap tore his leg from the snow and held it between her and the projectile.
He saved her. At the low, low cost of shattering his lower leg in three places.
And he’d do it again.
As he put it…
I was turning to stop at the top of the first run of the season, to see what the terrain looked like. One ski bit beautifully, arcing through the hardpack snow. The other didn’t.
And down I went.
The truth, I expect, lies somewhere in between…
And how is your year going?
Guapola 