The clouds parted, and two men fell from the sky. They landed in car and began to race through the streets of LA, avoiding gunfire and thrown rocks. Labelled as bandits and misfits, it was them against the world. They bailed out of the car as it was sent flying off the edge of a massive cliff. As they drew their revolvers, they simultaneously made half court baskets at the staples center. These two can achieve the impossible, and for that they were hunted. They ran day and night from people, birds and bears, and the elements as we knew them. They became masters of the night, avoiding even the most potent of hunters. They snuck across the world, and one day came upon a mountain. The mountain had something special about it, and aura of sorts. So they climbed, and for days they climbed, hand over hand, inch by inch. Fighting storms and blizzards, eagles and hurricanes. They fought against the air, as it slowly got thinner and thinner, and themselves, as they craved giving up, but something propelled them farther. Then after what seemed like years, they reached a cloud. A familiar cloud, something they've seen before, so they climbed one more time, on top of the cloud. As they sat breathing loudly, one said to the other: "that was some adventure."
That was the most ridiculous thing i've ever wrote.
No comments:
Post a Comment