By Eric Vallen
Let’s set the scene. Yosemite. El Capitan. 7,573 feet of one-hundred million year old granite. Pretty young if you ask me. Bob Ross, Michael Jordan, Eren Yeager, and me (Irrelevant). Four canvases, shoddy paintbrushes, murky water in tupperware, cardboard chunks for palettes. Snacks, in the form of several dozen packages of Kirkland trail mix, are in Michael’s backpack. For now, we paint. Across from El Capitan lies the mediocre Mount Dana, and Bob decides that today we shall paint it. Although Mt. Dana has quite a distinct round shape, Eren paints it with distinct corners, almost like a wall. “We must retake it” he mutters.
“That’s right, obstacles don’t have to stop you. If you run into a wall, don’t turn around and give up. Figure out how to climb it, go through it, or work around it.” says Michael.
“You wouldn’t know, horse-face”
“EXCUSE ME BOY ILL LET YOU KNOW–”
“Excuse me, gentlemen, why don’t we be friends, the world needs people to be friends, and although Mr. Yeager may be acting like a tree, there’s nothing wrong with having a tree as a friend”, Bob declares.
“I destroyed the world for my friends.”
“Looks pretty intact to me man”, says Michael.
“You wouldn’t know.”
We four continue to paint, Bob a masterpiece, Michael a near replica with a goat on top, Eren something entirely different from Mt Dana, and me a mediocre, kindergarten quality painting.
A skua bird circles over Eren.
“Hey that’s me” he says
“Listen man you’re saying a lot of things that make zero sense, that ain’t a winning mentality”
“I win at any cost”
“I don’t know man the worlds still looking pretty intact to me”
“Not for long”
“Excuse me, I was once a drill sergeant, but this talk of death really isn’t sitting well with my spirit”, interjects Bob.
Quiet falls over us, as we put the finishing touches on our paintings. In my final brush strokes, I draw a stick figure man on top of the mountain.
“Did you see that?!” exclaims Eren. “Is there a man over there?”
“Nah dog I just had an epiphanic moment of inspiration” I say.
Already blind with uncontrollable rage, Eren runs to the edge, and jumps.
In true Michael Jordan fashion, the man says “Ah, he follows my mantra, ‘Once i make a decision, I never think about it again’”
“He’s really not thinking anymore” I say.
“No more friends for him I suppose” says Bob.
In a flash of light, an enormous man-beast appears on the valley floor. It has green eyes, and perfectly straight, soft black hair. It runs over to Mt. Dana and starts ripping it apart, boulder by boulder. Bob, Michael, and I sit on El Capitan, slowly eating trail mix for the following hours, watching the titan-like thing rip apart the subject of our paintings. As the sun sets, Michael says “I’d rather be smoking cigars and wagering sums equivalent to your life savings than doing this right now”. Us three leave in Michael’s Bugatti Veyron, on the way to the sasquatch-ran casino just down the mountain. Thus ends my ideal dinner. For four. Yup.