Seven 9s and 10s

“The Bridge” By Edwin Friedman

GPOYW:

tj:

There was a man who had given much thought to what he wanted from life. He had experienced many moods and trials. He had experimented with different ways of living, and he had had his share of both success and failure. At last, he began to see clearly where he wanted to go.

Diligently, he searched for the right opportunity. Sometimes he came close, only to be pushed away. Often he applied all his strength and imagination, only to find the path hopelessly blocked. And then at last it came. But the opportunity would not wait. It would be made available only for a short time. If it were seen that he was not committed, the opportunity would not come again.

Eager to arrive, he started on his journey. With each step, he wanted to move faster; with each thought about his goal, his heart beat quicker; with each vision of what lay ahead, he found renewed vigor. Strength that had left him since his early youth returned, and desires, all kinds of desires, reawakened from their long-dormant positions.

Hurrying along, he came upon a bridge that crossed through the middle of a town. It had been built high above a river in order to protect it from the floods of spring. He started across.

Then he noticed someone coming from the opposite direction. As they moved closer, it seemed as though the other were coming to greet him. He could see clearly, however, that he did not know this other, who was dressed similarly except for something tied around his waist.

When they were within hailing distance, he could see that what the other had about his waist was a rope. It was wrapped around him many times and probably, if extended, would reach a length of 30 feet.

The other began to uncurl the rope, and, just as they were coming close, the stranger said, “Pardon me, would you be so kind as to hold the end a moment?” Surprised by this politely phrased but curious request, he agreed without a thought, reached out, and took it.

“Thank you,” said the other, who then added, “two hands now, and remember, hold tight.” Whereupon, the other jumped off the bridge.

Quickly, the free-falling body hurtled the distance of the rope’s length, and from the bridge the man abruptly felt the pull. Instinctively, he held tight and was almost dragged over the side. He managed to brace himself against the edge, however, and after having caught his breath, looked down at the other dangling, close to oblivion.

“What are you trying to do?” he yelled.

“Just hold tight,” said the other.  “This is ridiculous,” the man thought and began trying to haul the other in. He could not get the leverage, however. It was as though the weight of the other person and the length of the rope had been carefully calculated in advance so that together they created a counterweight just beyond his strength to bring the other back to safety.

“Why did you do this?” the man called out.

“Remember,” said the other, “if you let go, I will be lost.”

“But I cannot pull you up,” the man cried.

“I am your responsibility,” said the other.

“Well, I did not ask for it,” the man said.

“If you let go, I am lost,” repeated the other.

He began to look around for help. But there was no one. How long would he have to wait? Why did this happen to befall him now, just as he was on the verge of true success? He examined the side, searching for a place to tie the rope. Some protrusion, perhaps, or maybe a hole in the boards. But the railing was unusually uniform in shape; there were no spaces between the boards. There was no way to get rid of this newfound burden, even temporarily.

“What do you want?” he asked the other hanging below.

“Just your help,” the other answered.

“How can I help? I cannot pull you in, and there is no place to tie the rope so that I can go and find someone to help me help you.”

“I know that. Just hang on; that will be enough. Tie the rope around your waist; it will be easier.” Fearing that his arms could not hold out much longer, he tied the rope around his waist.

“Why did you do this?” he asked again. “Don’t you see what you have done? What possible purpose could you have had in mind?”

“Just remember,” said the other, “my life is in your hands.”

What should he do?

“If I let go, all my life I will know that I let this other die. If I stay, I risk losing my momentum toward my own long-sought-after salvation. Either way this will haunt me forever.”

With ironic humor he thought to die himself, instantly, to jump off the bridge while still holding on. “That would teach this fool.” But he wanted to live and to live life fully. “What a choice I have to make; how shall I ever decide?”

As time went by, still no one came. The critical moment of decision was drawing near. To show his commitment to his own goals, he would have to continue on his journey now. It was already almost too late to arrive in time. But what a terrible choice to have to make.

A new thought occurred to him. While he could not pull this other up solely by his own efforts, if the other would shorten the rope from his end by curling it around his waist again and again, together they could do it. Actually, the other could do it by himself, so long as he, standing on the bridge, kept it still and steady.

“Now listen,” he shouted down. “I think I know how to save you.” And he explained his plan.

But the other wasn’t interested.

“You mean you won’t help? But I told you I cannot pull you up myself, and I don’t think I can hang on much longer either.”

“You must try,” the other shouted back in tears. “If you fail, I die.”

The point of decision arrived. What should he do? “My life or this other’s?”

And then a new idea. A revelation. So new, in fact, it seemed heretical, so alien was it to his traditional way of thinking.

“I want you to listen carefully,” he said, “because I mean what I am about to say. I will not accept the position of choice for your life, only for my own; the position of choice for your own life I hereby give back to you.”

“What do you mean?” the other asked, afraid.

“I mean, simply, it’s up to you. You decide which way this ends. I will become the counterweight. You do the pulling and bring yourself up. I will even tug a little from here.” He began unwinding the rope from around his waist and braced himself anew against the side.

“You cannot mean what you say,” the other shrieked. “You would not be so selfish. I am your responsibility. What could be so important that you would let someone die? Do not do this to me.”

He waited a moment. There was no change in the tension of the rope.

“I accept your choice,” he said, at last, and freed his hands.

globochem:

welp

Listen here, kiddo.
There’s no easy way to break this to you so I’m just going to let you have it: you’re frighteningly ugly.  Now, I give you credit for your attempt to look as beautiful as me, but you have failed in the most dramatically miserable fashion that I have ever seen.
Allow me to give you a few tips for future photography sessions - though, I have to be honest here, the first thought that crossed my mind as I started writing this was: “God help us if anyone is ever stupid enough to once again take pictures of this walking nightmare.”
Next time you should try losing somewhere between 50 and 75 percent of your body weight before heading to the studio. Yes, I know this will be challenging for a hippopotamus/human hybrid like yourself (hippopotuman?), but it’ll be for your own good, and it’ll definitely be good for everyone else too.
Grow some hair. It will really help the photographer to not have to worry about being blinded every time his flash bounces off your big shiny dome. It’s bad enough that your cheeks resemble an elaborate attempt to recreate Archimedes Heat Ray, but if you have any success with my first tip then you that won’t specifically be an issue anymore. So just concentrate real hard and clench your asshole and put some earplugs in and plug your nose and close your eyes and push with all your might. With any luck that will sprout some stems out of that mass of flesh that’s seemingly an extension of your ass cheeks.
Now, again, this one will be very difficult unless you can lose some of that disgusting chub, but you really need to prop yourself up on your arms. I’ve been closely inspecting this photo and I think you actually have wrists, and I’m ready for the consequences if I’m wrong about that and you simply just have two of those novelty water snake toy things attached to your shoulders. By propping yourself up you’ll be demonstrating that you are strong (chicks dig strength) as well as elongating your torso and neck, which by the time you try this will hopefully be reduced to the Standard Human Model (#SHM-NECK-001) that includes only one chin (rather than the approximately 17 chins that I can discern in this photo).
White is not your color.
Seriously though, did you eat your quadruplet siblings in the womb, and have they managed to sew your mother’s vagina back together yet? If they need reinforcements tell them not to even bother with All The King’s Horses And All The King’s Men, because that crew has proven itself ineffective time and time again.
In conclusion, let me wish you the best of luck. Just because you’re the most hideous creature that I’ve ever laid eyes on (and that’s saying a lot coming from me - hell, I’m the chairman of the World’s Ugliest Dog competition) doesn’t mean you can’t turn your life around. I’ll leave you with a copy of my award-winning photo. You should use it as inspiration to be all you can be.
Godspeed,Steelopus

globochem:

welp

Listen here, kiddo.

There’s no easy way to break this to you so I’m just going to let you have it: you’re frighteningly ugly.  Now, I give you credit for your attempt to look as beautiful as me, but you have failed in the most dramatically miserable fashion that I have ever seen.

Allow me to give you a few tips for future photography sessions - though, I have to be honest here, the first thought that crossed my mind as I started writing this was: “God help us if anyone is ever stupid enough to once again take pictures of this walking nightmare.”

  1. Next time you should try losing somewhere between 50 and 75 percent of your body weight before heading to the studio. Yes, I know this will be challenging for a hippopotamus/human hybrid like yourself (hippopotuman?), but it’ll be for your own good, and it’ll definitely be good for everyone else too.
  2. Grow some hair. It will really help the photographer to not have to worry about being blinded every time his flash bounces off your big shiny dome. It’s bad enough that your cheeks resemble an elaborate attempt to recreate Archimedes Heat Ray, but if you have any success with my first tip then you that won’t specifically be an issue anymore. So just concentrate real hard and clench your asshole and put some earplugs in and plug your nose and close your eyes and push with all your might. With any luck that will sprout some stems out of that mass of flesh that’s seemingly an extension of your ass cheeks.
  3. Now, again, this one will be very difficult unless you can lose some of that disgusting chub, but you really need to prop yourself up on your arms. I’ve been closely inspecting this photo and I think you actually have wrists, and I’m ready for the consequences if I’m wrong about that and you simply just have two of those novelty water snake toy things attached to your shoulders. By propping yourself up you’ll be demonstrating that you are strong (chicks dig strength) as well as elongating your torso and neck, which by the time you try this will hopefully be reduced to the Standard Human Model (#SHM-NECK-001) that includes only one chin (rather than the approximately 17 chins that I can discern in this photo).
  4. White is not your color.
  5. Seriously though, did you eat your quadruplet siblings in the womb, and have they managed to sew your mother’s vagina back together yet? If they need reinforcements tell them not to even bother with All The King’s Horses And All The King’s Men, because that crew has proven itself ineffective time and time again.

In conclusion, let me wish you the best of luck. Just because you’re the most hideous creature that I’ve ever laid eyes on (and that’s saying a lot coming from me - hell, I’m the chairman of the World’s Ugliest Dog competition) doesn’t mean you can’t turn your life around. I’ll leave you with a copy of my award-winning photo. You should use it as inspiration to be all you can be.

Godspeed,
Steelopus

Later tonight I’ll give you a picture you haven’t seen before, but until then, here is the story of my Twitter avatar.
I was but a wee infant.  My family had gone camping up in the mountain that you can see off in the distant background.  Early one morning my father was gathering firewood, cutting down dead trees, etc.  One of these dead trees was magnificently tall and it fell with tremendous force.  The impact against the cold frozen earth sent shock-waves up the mountainside, instigating a devastating avalanche.
The snow barrelled down the slope with ever-increasing speed and furiosity as my father picked me up and ran back towards our campsite.  Before we knew it, the snow had engulfed us and my entire family was being propelled downward by this unthinkable tragedy. It seemed like an eternity before we finally stopped, but it was probably only about a minute.
The avalanche had deposited us into a deep ravine at the base of the mountain.  Miraculously, I was not buried and ended up resting atop the flow of ice and snow - as if you were pouring milk into a bowl of Lucky Charms® and all the marshmallow treasures floated to the top because they weighed less than their oaty brethren.  I cried out to my family but there was no response, so I did the only thing I could - I crawled.
I crawled out from that ravine and slowly traversed miles of frozen forest before finally seeing a ski lodge off in the distance.  As night was quickly falling, with my last minuscule strength, I pushed open the door and crawled to the edge of a staircase, screaming.  This picture was snapped by someone at the base of the stairs. Startled by the screaming, she was quick enough to grab a nearby camera and capture this picture of me. You can tell I was cold because my tongue is clearly blue and frozen.
My family was rescued.  They had been trapped beneath the snow but protected in a natural snow-cave that had formed around them as they tumbled down the mountain.  To this day, I still bear the emotional scars of that fateful day.
(GCPOYT, started by inthefade)

Later tonight I’ll give you a picture you haven’t seen before, but until then, here is the story of my Twitter avatar.

I was but a wee infant.  My family had gone camping up in the mountain that you can see off in the distant background.  Early one morning my father was gathering firewood, cutting down dead trees, etc.  One of these dead trees was magnificently tall and it fell with tremendous force.  The impact against the cold frozen earth sent shock-waves up the mountainside, instigating a devastating avalanche.

The snow barrelled down the slope with ever-increasing speed and furiosity as my father picked me up and ran back towards our campsite.  Before we knew it, the snow had engulfed us and my entire family was being propelled downward by this unthinkable tragedy. It seemed like an eternity before we finally stopped, but it was probably only about a minute.

The avalanche had deposited us into a deep ravine at the base of the mountain.  Miraculously, I was not buried and ended up resting atop the flow of ice and snow - as if you were pouring milk into a bowl of Lucky Charms® and all the marshmallow treasures floated to the top because they weighed less than their oaty brethren.  I cried out to my family but there was no response, so I did the only thing I could - I crawled.

I crawled out from that ravine and slowly traversed miles of frozen forest before finally seeing a ski lodge off in the distance.  As night was quickly falling, with my last minuscule strength, I pushed open the door and crawled to the edge of a staircase, screaming.  This picture was snapped by someone at the base of the stairs. Startled by the screaming, she was quick enough to grab a nearby camera and capture this picture of me. You can tell I was cold because my tongue is clearly blue and frozen.

My family was rescued.  They had been trapped beneath the snow but protected in a natural snow-cave that had formed around them as they tumbled down the mountain.  To this day, I still bear the emotional scars of that fateful day.

(GCPOYT, started by inthefade)