RONNIE: What is it
That thou dost see, or think thou look’st upon?
ARCHIE: Myself, and thee– a peasant of the Alps–
Thy humble virtues, hospitable home
And spirit patient, pious, proud and free;
Thy self-respect, grafted on innocent thoughts;
Thy days of health, and nights of sleep; thy toils
By danger dignified, yet guiltless; hopes
Of cheerful old age and a quiet grave,
With cross and garland over its green turf,
And thy grandchildren’s love for epitaph;
This do I see– and then I look within–
It matters not– my soul was scorch’d already!
“Well, you’ll take me with you, since we’re hooked up together, and let’s face it, I’ve got all the sure footedness and steadiness of a high strung cat in a room full of rocking chairs, so there’s no way I’ll be able to stop from going over the ledge with you. We’ll fall to our deaths off Mount Widowmaker, shattering upon impact with the valley floor, where Betty will collect samples of my DNA to clone me as part of her ongoing plans to have my baby. The problem then will be that your blood and mine will be so mixed that the resulting clone will be a mixture of both of us. A bitchy redhead with a beat up car.”
“Archie, do you feel that, in many cases, science seeks to scale the mountain of empirical knowledge only to find philosophy already at the summit?”
“Ronnie, I already told you: there’s a stash of top-grade ganja and a box of condoms at the summit because I put them there yesterday. So climb, baby, climb!”
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Something about getting my rocks off.
Something about getting my leg over.
“Do you think God will be pissed when we overthrow his throne?”
“I thought of that. This here backpack? Filled with fine imported Jamaican weed.”
RONNIE: What is it
That thou dost see, or think thou look’st upon?
ARCHIE: Myself, and thee– a peasant of the Alps–
Thy humble virtues, hospitable home
And spirit patient, pious, proud and free;
Thy self-respect, grafted on innocent thoughts;
Thy days of health, and nights of sleep; thy toils
By danger dignified, yet guiltless; hopes
Of cheerful old age and a quiet grave,
With cross and garland over its green turf,
And thy grandchildren’s love for epitaph;
This do I see– and then I look within–
It matters not– my soul was scorch’d already!
Veronica: Do you think my dad will find out that we’re having sex on top of this mountain?
Archie: Don’t worry, I sent him off on a wild goose chase. And there’s no chance whatsoever that the wild geese will lead him here.
“You can see my house from up here, Archie.”
“Can I see your — no, we’ve done that one to death…”
What do you think we’ll find at the top of Kindbud Peak?
We’ve been climbing this fucking rock for five hours, Ronnie. Do you you think you could shut up for five minutes and let me enjoy this?
“So what happens if I slip and fall, Archie?”
“Well, you’ll take me with you, since we’re hooked up together, and let’s face it, I’ve got all the sure footedness and steadiness of a high strung cat in a room full of rocking chairs, so there’s no way I’ll be able to stop from going over the ledge with you. We’ll fall to our deaths off Mount Widowmaker, shattering upon impact with the valley floor, where Betty will collect samples of my DNA to clone me as part of her ongoing plans to have my baby. The problem then will be that your blood and mine will be so mixed that the resulting clone will be a mixture of both of us. A bitchy redhead with a beat up car.”
“The rocks up here are all cracked and loose!”
“Good! Now on the count of three, PUSH!”
Did Daddy carve a hole in that rock in the shape of a vagina?
Yes. Yes he did.
“Archie, do you feel that, in many cases, science seeks to scale the mountain of empirical knowledge only to find philosophy already at the summit?”
“Ronnie, I already told you: there’s a stash of top-grade ganja and a box of condoms at the summit because I put them there yesterday. So climb, baby, climb!”
“Hurry! We can’t let Manannan catch us with the magic ingredients until we brew the potion!”
“Relax! That old wizard’s probably fast asleep!”
“Don’t you just love how the Lodge family plays king of the mou- wait, how can I be sure that wasn’t the original, unimproved joke?”
“You’ll know when you hear the satisfying crunch of your father’s skull bursting open after I’ve hurled down him to the hard, rocky ground.”
“Isn’t this the plot of, like, 1/3 of all Ziggy strips?”
“Wait, you read fucking ZIGGY?”
“But screw your courage to the sticking-place,
| And we’ll not fail.”
“In front of this crowd, you said ‘screw?’”