“Welcome to Flat Mountain, stranger!” I called. I can always spot the newcomers on account of their dazed expressions. “You'll feel better if you sit down for a spell. It's the thin air up here.”
The man glanced behind him. “But I haven't climbed anything. The road's level.”
“'Course it is, fella. That's why it's Flat Mountain.”
He glared at me. It takes 'em that way, sometimes. “You're nuts.”
“Mind your step,” I warned as he walked away.
I sighed. Another tourist fallen over the cliff. I keep telling the sheriff we ought to put up a sign.
That Pot Or Vase I Think
1 day ago