Crossing

Crossing

By: L.F. Young

26 March 2025

**trigger warning: none

**not my picture

Question: why did the first mountain goat in the Andes Mountains, thousands of years ago, decide to cross over that dangerous ridge line? Here’s a good guess of how it went.

Scene: We have a happily chancing upon a small gathering of mountain goats, high up in the Andes Mountain range. Peacefully munching on spring grass and slowly sipping away on their freshly brewed mugs of dark malt beer.

Narrator: Day you ask; probably a Tuesday. And action, cue scene. Quite on the set.

                          ~~~~~~~~~

“Hay, haaaay Joe. Joe!”

Joe heard his name being called, but he was peacefully munching on the newly sprouted spring grass on a small plateau. Enjoying the warmth of the rising sunshine, breathing in the cool breeze and listening to the soft silky songs of the higher elevations of the Andes Mountains. While sipping slowly on a freshly made batch of dark malted hops beer.

Life was good and Joe wouldn’t have it any other way. He was a peaceful guy, needed for not as long as there was something to munch on and enough hops and barley to brew his favorite drink and a beautiful view to stimulate his spirits. Joe was a simple guy, he knew none the young beautiful ladies in the herd. Would pick him.

He knew they would never look his way, when choosing a life long mate. If truth be told, Joe knew he was a bit homely in looks department. He had excepted his lot in life, and picked the parts in his life that he could control and enjoy. But if Joe was honest, in the quiet hours of the night. Even Joe wanted a beautiful lady to love and be his life-mate, raise a little herd of his own. on his knowledge and wisdom.

“Joe. Joe… JOE!”

“What Sally?”

“I bet you can’t cross that ridge line over there, going from this side to the other and back.”

Joe was what most would call… thick headed, slow witted. In reality, Joe was a deep thinker. He took in Sally’s challenge. Pondered if for about ten minutes, then looked over the the other males in the small herd. Every one of them to the last corkscrewed horn, was slowly shaking their heads. Noooooooo! And whispered, “its a trap, don’t go Joe.” Joe smiled at them, then said.

“You think I was born yesterday. I’m not risking my life to cross some razor thin ridge line. Just to turn right around and walk all the way back.”

“Aww Joe. Not even for a date with me.”

Sally had nudged her claws into Joe’s mind. She was that one female goat that was unattainable, one of those beyond beautiful ladies. Bordering on obscenely gorgeous, almost to heavenly to look at… almost. She was that goat. The one all male goats wanted to meet and secretly prayed. She would choose them to be lifelong companions. Even Joe dreamed.

“Hold my beer, Sally. Hold my beer.”

The slaps to the forehead from the other male goats, echoed down the Andes Mountains. And with that ceremonial ing of his beer, cliff walking was born. Sadly, Joe didn’t make the return trip back.

“The offer still stands.” Said Sally out loud. Waiting to see if she had any new takers.

The other twenty male goats that had shook their heads at Joe, whispering, “its a trap, don’t go Joe. Suddenly had a change of heart. One by one, they trotted over to Sally, then boasted they could do what Joe couldn’t and get back as well.

Sally said, “if you do. You get a dinner date with me… and maybe a little kiss for a reward.”

“Hold my beer, Sally. Hold my beer.” Each one in toe, said the same thing to Sally. One by one they trotted up to her, said Hold my beer, Sally. Hold my beer.

Sadly, nearly all having the same results as poor old Joe. But let’s not dwell on the negatives, shall we. That day, two new things were introduced into the world. The recreational sport, mountain ridge parkouring got invented. Along with the famous line; hold my beer, being invented as well.

We few, very few. Hung our heads down ing those unfortunate nineteen goats that gave their lives that faithful Tuesday morning. But we also took a moment to celebrate the two brave souls who took the parkour challenge and made it back safely.

Let’s give these two luck male goats the honor they deserve , in becoming the first two to cross the razor thin ridges of the Andes Mountains. An live to tale the tale. They also won the chance at going on a dinner date with the recently separated Sally. Who just happened to be the most smoking hot female goat in all of the Andes mountain range.

Whose prior male life partner, disappeared under suspicion circumstances, some of the females and more than a few of the already married males, claiming foul play. He was a wealthy goat, being the last living member of his family. That owned the ownership rights to the three largest of the higher plateau’s, with the best grazing sites in the upper reaches of the Andes mountains. Upon his demise Sally became the sole inheritor of said three plateau’s.

As the last rays of the fading day started to set behind Sally’s head, she trained her sights lower. To several of the lower plateau’s, where they grew the best barley and hops.

“I wonder who owns those plateau’s down there and more importantly, is he single?”

Sally wasn’t worried about having to go on a dinner date with either of those two buffoons later tonight. It was a common occurrence. For an unfortunate goat slipped on the slippery edges of the mountain side. Plummeting to his, or their deaths. Giggling could be heard as the hottest goat in the Andes. Quietly made her way down to the lower plateau’s, thinking all the while. It smells like it’s going to be a beautiful day tomorrow as well.