The following tale was told by my uncle, who has not been seen for some years since, nor heard from for he refuses to Facetime anyone and we have all been too busy to meet him face-to-face. There was a small town at the food of the mountains. They were not as great as the Rockies, but they caught the rain, and kept the small town from being a comfortable and populous place to live. And yet the inhabitants of this little town knew its quirks and the best time of day to loiter and the best time of day to labor. And obviously, the best time to labor was whenever the sun wasn’t beaming down and boiling their blood, which was most of the time, so the best time to labor was as little as possible. One of these inhabitants was Ric Van Walker. Now …show more content…
Ringed around the pool were a people Ric had never dreamed of seeing, for even his day the tribes had been but tales of a long-ago people. A people who were one with the world, who reveled in the beauty of the earth, and needed no artificial separation from natural existence. They actually spent time outside as children and regularly played beach volleyball at the beach during the summer instead of on the Wii. To these people mountain climbing involved actual mountains, not green screens or plastic handholds. The people who lived on the mountain invited Ric Van Walker into their circles, and he danced with them as the sun crested the mountains once more. Finally Ric retreated from the circles, pleading exhaustion, and began to make his way home. As he made his way down the mountain slide, he breathed heavily and his joints popped. The sun was close to setting as Ric finally reached the small town. Knowing the propensity of the inhabitants to laze about, Ric made his way to the bar, which even a small town will have. Surprisingly, the bar was quiet, although the lights were on. Ric paused in confusion, before opening the door and walking