By Elizabeth Anderson | Guest Writer
From the journal of Ulysses G. Buchanan, famed British explorer.
May 10th, 2019
Ay, the top of the fabled Mountain Everest looms above my head! I say, it seems so close that I could nearly rest my hat upon it. One almost wishes I had brought my most-treasured hat collection along with me! Ha, ha!!! It has been a rough journey so far. The mountain, she has claimed more than a few men- in fact, she has claimed the majority. In fact, all of whom is left is me, our native mountain guide, and my hearty, ever-trustworthy pal, Rutherford. However, it will all be worth it when we are the first to reach this most fabled peak of the world!! Supplies are low.
May 13th, 2019
My dear journal, you SHALL NOT BELIEVE what Rutherford said to me today! He said, with that idiotic look in his eyes (YOU KNOW), “Why are we climbing this mountain?” What does that mean? We had a huge fight.
I hate this mountain and I hate exploring.
I hate this mountain and I hate exploring. And I HATE RUTHERFORD. At least when we reach this dumb top we can finally go home. I understand why no one has made it to this most-ever fabled peak ever before, it is harder than I ever imagined. And I’m doing it with the SHITTIEST EXPLORER / FRIEND in the UNIVERSE, on top of all of that.
May 17th, 2019
My dearest of diaries, can you remind me why I am still speaking to the human vermin that is Rutherford? Today, we were continuing our long, ever-important quest to claim the peak of the world, when he turned to me with that look in his eyes (YOU KNOW!!!). This time it looked even more pathetic. He said, “Ulysses, I’m sorry I offended you. I just miss my friends, but I know they sacrificed themselves for a worthy cause.” Ugh. So my own companionship is not good enough for you, Rutherford? You would rather have one of those clumsy, dead idiots? “That’s not what I meant!” Whatever, say what you need to say to make yourself feel better, asshole. Remind me why I’m climbing this mountain again? I’m not even having fun anymore.
Supplies are very low.
May 18th, 2019
So we were climbing up this mountain, right, with all the snow and rocks and shit? Tonight, I was cooking up a pot of Stew. THEN, Rutherford asks, “Can I have some more, please?” RUTHERFORD!!!! As if he needs the extra calories- If he gets any “heartier” he might roll off this goddamn mountain. “Ulysses! Please talk to me, I value our friendship.” Guess what? I don’t, because I HAVE A LIFE!!!
Rutherford is a dick. And now we are out of stew.
One day, I shall be printed in all of the historical records as the VERY FIRST HERO who conquered the tallest peak on this big rock we call Earth, and Rutherford will become part of the LOSER HALL OF FAME!! Ah, sometimes I make myself laugh, dear diary. Rutherford is a dick. And now we are out of stew.
May 19th, 2019:
Do not even ASK!!! I swear to God, it’s a negative million degrees on this mountain. I’m just crabby and sad and I’m STILL PISSED AT RUTHERFORD!! Today he had the gall to try on my beaver skin hat WITHOUT asking me. Uh, ever heard of manners? We are no longer on speaking terms. I HATE CLIMBING THIS BIG DUMB ROCK!!!!
May 22th, 2019
Why didn’t someone fucking tell me? I didn’t know someone already climbed Mt. Everest. Why did someone do that? It’s so high. I thought I could maybe get into the Guinness Book of World Records, and kids in dentist offices could point at me, and say “Wow, that guy sure is CRAZY!” Why couldn’t I just commit to growing my toenails out really long? Do you think the dead ones would be angry with me? Don’t they know I’m TRYING MY BEST??
We’re at the top now, but what’s even the point?
We’re at the top now, but what’s even the point? Rutherford ate all the damn stew, and probably got lice all over my cool hat. Supplies are very, very low. More or less gone. Dear diary, what do you think a human being would taste like? Okay, I’m sorry, but all I’m saying is that if Rutherford did not want to be eaten, then he should not have acted like such an ASSHOLE this whole time (please DO NOT construe that comment as some perverted sexual fantasy. I would like to kill and eat Rutherford solely for nutritional value and also for revenge!!!!!!)
May 25th, 2019
From the hand of Rutherford P. Jones
Tragedy hath once again struck our mountain-fairing crew!! Our brave, understandably-cranky pal Ulysses Buchanan, has been murdered by this most unmerciful of mountains!!!
Yesterday, Ulysses most thoughtfully asked me, “My heartiest pal, wouldn’t you please come enjoy the view of this very, very cool icicle with me?” Of course I jumped at the opportunity! He brought me to said icicle, indeed, it was quite big and sharp, and I had begun to think that perhaps this trip had been worth it after all. However, Ulysses was still dissatisfied. “Rutherford!!! Goddamnit, you have to get RIGHT UNDER IT!!!” He began helpfully shoving me, wisely knowing that you get the best view from directly under it. It was then, while flipping his arms every-which-a-way in rage, that he hit the most grand icicle, causing his final impalement!!
Oh dear Ulysses, the guilt eats me alive! But I suppose I have learned a lesson- always listen to Ulysses, for he is always right!! It is unfortunate that Ulysses is too dead now to give me any more instructions. No matter!! He still lives in my heart, and I swear I will find a way for him to achieve his lifelong dream. Dear diary, do your toenails grow after you die? Maybe we can get a “Weekend at Bernie’s” situation going. ♦