She'll Be Comin 'Round the Mountain

"She'll be comin 'round the mountain when she comes
She'll be comin 'round the mountain when she comes
She'll be comin 'round the mountain
She'll be comin 'round the mountain
She'll be comin 'round the mountain when she comes"

Do you know HOW LONG I've been waiting on this goddamned mountain for that bitch?! 63 days! I was told by the other Sherpas that this broad was high maintenance but COME ON! I took this job because of the flexible hours - I did not expect to be sitting on this putrid rock for 63 days smelling like the inside of an old pickle jar, waiting for some hussy who has some real issues with punctuality. I feel like I'm waiting for Godot up here!

First of all, who needs a Sherpa when you've already made it 'round the mountain? That's the hardest part - the round! Navigating the terrain of a mountain by yourself is not only dangerous, it's stupid. But this chick, whoever she is, was BRAIN DEAD enough to take on the task. Fine. I'm not one to judge. But do you really need someone to wave you in during the home stretch?! What assistance could I possibly provide at this point? I'll be a fuckin' bell boy! Can I take your bags, ma'am? Shall I freshen up your donkey? I'm a Sherpa, not some acne-riddled teen at the Marriott.

Before I scaled the mountain, my Sherpa buddy Craig said to me, "Well, maybe she's hot?". No. No way. If she was hot, I would not be up here, flagging her fat-ass down. Where's the husband? Where's the boyfriend? I'll tell you where - NOWHERE. Because she's obviously a troll. And beyond that, she's clearly a bitch. She'll be coming 'round the mountain WHEN SHE COMES? Really? What an inconsiderate piece of shit. Well, I'm glad the whole world revolves around YOUR schedule, lady! It's not like I have anything better to do for 63 days than wait for you to GRACE me with your presence!

So here I am, on day 64, whisky in one hand and a straight razor in the other. Don't think I haven't thought of doing it. I have. But fuck me if I don't keep holding out hope, thinking that maybe, off in the horizon, as the sun sets on another day, that she may actually be coming 'round that mountain. Part of me thinks I don't ever want her to come. Because, then what? Return to my shitty life at the bottom of the mountain? Let me tell you, it may be agony up here, but its a dreamworld compared to the valley. Do you know the last thing I heard before heading up? My sister's younger cousin Gary was raped by a goat. That's the kind of world that the bottom of the mountain provides. Goat rape. Some people say it was consensual, but I knew that goat. And he was a whore.

I know what you're thinking. You're thinking, 'Why don't you just leave?' Don't you think I've asked myself that question a million times?! But what if, at the very moment I leave, she arrives? What kind of incredible douche would I be then? Waiting 64 days, and then leaving, only to find out I JUST missed her?! No way. I'm sticking this one out. Because I may not know much, but I do know this. She will be coming 'round the mountain. But it's when she comes. So now, it's just a game of chicken. Who will blink first? Certainly not me. All I have to do is stay alive. And avoid that horny goat.