The greatest challenge
By Stephen Philip Druce
“I need to explore my inner self. I need to feel a sense of achievement. I need a new challenge.”
“Wash the dishes once a year then,” said the wife.
“No dear, I need a sterner test. I’ve decided I’m going to climb Mount Everest.”
“Climb Everest? Ha ha! Let’s see you climb out of the bath tub without getting your fat ass stuck for once,” she said.
“Well, I won’t be climbing alone. I have summoned the help of two fine mountaineers.”
“Really? Iconic names, no doubt. Who are they then?” she said.
“Well, naturally Ted Slop and Bob Splodge.”
“Who? Ha ha! And what are their credentials?” she said.
“Credentials? Please show some due respect for these courageous men. Ted Slop has climbed more ladders as a window cleaner than you’ve had hot dinners, and Bob Splodge is very accomplished with ropes: runner-up in the ‘boy scouts tug-of-war team tournament for Utah’ 1982. Yes, these two talented men are all I’ll need to get me up the mountain — except for maybe half a dozen sherpas to carry the beer. No, I definitely need something that sorts the men out from the boys.”
“You mean like overgrown nasal hair? I’m curious, what’s going to be your route approach to the summit, the southeastern route in Nepal or the northern route in Tibet?” she said.
“Neither, actually. We’ll be climbing in a straight vertical line. This will save time and ensure we’re back home in time for the prearranged victory celebration party and buffet of sausage rolls and cheese and pineapple on sticks.”
The night before the flight to Nepal, my fellow climbers and I slept over at my apartment, making final preparations. In the morning, I discovered I’d lost my apartment key. We had no option but to climb down the drainpipe on the outside of the apartment building, six floors up. As we slid down, attached to ropes, I suddenly lost my grip, and in desperation I swung my ice pick into the building wall, which caused a large, gaping hole in the brickwork and plaster. I could see through the hole into Fat Mavis’s apartment as she took a shower.
“This climbing lark is giving me altitude sickness,” said Ted. “I’m hallucinating, I’m getting horrible visions.”
“Me too,” I said. “Have you seen Fat Mavis naked?”
Mavis, feeling violated, reached out through the hole and tried to push us all off the ropes. Consequently, she fell out of the building and fell on top of Bob. The four of us became entangled and squashed into a big pile.
“Oxygen mask!” cried Bob.
“No need for oxygen Bob, we’re at a lower altitude now,” I said.
“It’s not that, Fat Mavis is sitting on my face,” he said.
Finally, we dropped down to the street exhausted. My wife was there waiting for me. I told her, “Hey, I lost my key to the apartment, we had to climb down.”
“Yeah, I know, I took the key from out of your trouser pocket.”
“What, are you nuts? Why the hell did you do that?” I asked.
“Well, I just wanted to see how you’d do as a climber. Now I know, you can get your fat ass back into the apartment and wash the dishes,” she said.
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