This is L. A. Cochran. Can anyone here me? Over.
On the off chance that anyone is out there, I'm going to keep t-talking. It's so c-cold here. And so quiet except for the w-wind whipping. I'm at the 50,000 foot marker. Almost to the summit. I c-can see it but I don't know if I'll make it.
At first we were all for one and one for all. We were a great team. Then, we... we ran out of food at about 30,000 feet--still early in the NaBloP-P-PoMo trek... It got a little ugly.
I had to stay warm. I had to keep g-going. I needed sustenance. Dammit! I had to think of my own survival!
D-don't look at me like that. I had no choice. You would have done the same thing. Besides, it wasn't so bad. Blogger tastes like chicken. Chicken with big chunks of *quiet weeping* gristle.
*sound of throat clearing*
There's still a few of us... trudging on... determined to make the summit... to p-plant the NaBloPoMo flag... to get a little d-d-dental floss.
But some of the others, they're eying me funny--like a KFC two-piece. I... I don't know how much further I can go. If you don't hear from me, tell--*thwack!*
25 November 2009