Greg_W was awakened from his blood-engorged dream of toe-sucking Mounty Blueblocker to the thunderous clamor of lightning strikes on the granite above his head. "Holy Mother of Ashcroft! If that was any closer I could fry a cornish hen on it!" he screamed to his partner, liberal scion J_B who was reading the communist manifesto nearby. "I better get my galoshes on before I ruin this new pedicure!"
"Its a neo-conservative plot to keep us off the mountains" cried out j_b as he lustily spied Greg's lacey whale-tail riding above his mammut pants as he bent over in front of him. Fed up with his wingbat rantings, Greg_W picked up J_B, and like Jesse Ventura at a champion dwarf-toss, J_B took flight into the night leaving Greg alone on his electrical mountainside.
Settling back down under the cover of the grantite overhang, Greg returned to his fantasy of the mighty Blueblocker, drolling like Pavlov's dogs at the thought of toe-sucking that wonderfully-moustached man.