He begged, he pleaded... he offered me wealth, women, wine and luxuries like I could not dream of. He even offered to pay for gas on the trip home. I would have none of it. He had shot off his big, loud mouth for the last time, and now nothing but staining the waters of Pikes Peak with his vile blood would satisfy my honor.
And Then, without warning, he said "Look! Behind you!"
Trickery! The rouge had only pretended there was something behind me to look at! By the time I realized this and turned back, he was gone, sprinting up the pathway like a very tired snail. I sprang after him like a short-legged turtle, politely demanding he slow down and let me poke bloody holes in his chest and belly. However, I knew once he had the lead that he would very slowly get away... still, I was determined not to catch up until we got back to the parking lot.
Once we did, the brakes had cooled and we went on up to the summit. Then on down to Larkspur and (finally) the Faire (woo) which is when I realized (aaaugh!) I had forgotten to bring the extra rolls of film. Ah well... next year.
