The Bird on the Mountain

You’ve almost finished scaling one of the highest mountains in the world. It has been a long and arduous journey, but once you reach the peak, you know it will have all been worthwhile. This trek was planned years in advance, and you had been going through rigorous training every day prior to the climb. Many times during the climb, you feared for your life. There have been many tests of your resolve. Frostbite, broken limbs, near starvation… but now you’re here. It’s all over, and you’re about to receive the glory. You have just accomplished what very few can claim to have done. You are one of the elite – a master of your chosen craft. You will be envied long after your life has come and gone, and your children’s children will speak often of you with great reverence.

But wait… you’re not alone at the peak… There is someone else…

Your mouth is gaping open, your eyes as big as saucers. What is it? How did it get here? Why is it not frozen, as it lacks clothes? How is it energetic enough at this point to be dancing?

It speaks to you.

“Hey man, got a light?” it asks. You are stunned. This thing is on top of one of the tallest mountains in the world, and it wants to smoke a cigarette? It doesn’t seem to realize the gravity of what it has done. You rub your eyes – surely this is a hallucination. It’s possible, right? You have been alone for many days, and have been faced with challenges no normal man could ever survive. Could insanity be the unfortunate consequence of your daring quest? Do you really want to know the answer to that question?

Your questions are suddenly halted when a tactile presence is made apparent by this creature. It shoves you. “I don’t have all day, old man, you got a light or what?” it asks. “S… sorry, no…” you respond. “Whatever dude, I’m splitsville,” and with that, it puts on sunglasses, outstretched its arms, and dives off the peak. You sit in silence for several minutes, trying to wrap your head around what has just happened. If you speak of this, who would ever believe you? And if you don’t, who’s to say that this bird won’t be the first to the press, burying you and your climb with insults and condemnation? These questions must wait however, as you must descend the mountain before you die from starvation of freeze to death.

- Kent Wicklander