At this writing, I am watching Dirt duct-tape a chainsaw to a wooden pole.
Smell that? Me too. Bad things.
My plan for today was to:
- sneak out and see Super 8
That's it. That's the list. But as we've established, compared to Dirt, I am less than a man.
His plan for today:
- drive a teeny stake into Madam and Eve's back yard
- tie a rope to it
- tie the other end of the rope to the ancient wooden ladder that came with a pile of scrap-wood when I bought my house nine years ago
- lower the ladder down their cliff
- descend it
- use the aforementioned chainsaw-on-a-pole to remove some trees
When doing this, he will be dangling some 70' above the shore below.
If I am not here, no one will hear his screams. "Just go," says the imbecile, cementing my moral choice.
It is with no small amount of bitterness that I am canceling my movie plans and watching the inevitable slowly unfold. I'm still having popcorn, though.
It's over.
Here's the rig on which he bet his life and, more importantly, my afternoon. It's straight down from there. The cliff is concave, even.
Where he was is circled in red. Scale: an adult man is circled in green.
