“Well, we climbed the mountain.”
“Well, we did.”
Roland and Mick look out over the purple-hazed peaks to ensure that they indeed stand on the highest in sight.
“Well, that’s good.”
Where better to begin than the end? I present a tale of rich, sentimental, swashbuckling fatherson relations on a mountaintop. Or something like that. It’s also about the apocalypse and proper pet care.
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