Bert the Semi-Nudist beat on the windows of Woody’s A-frame house next to the Purden Forest. “Wake up in there Woody,” he called. “Things a do’n out here this morning. Get up and see.” Groggilly, Woody rolled over on his cat mattress… and fell asleep again. Five minutes later, Bert was back beating. Woody’s actual cat Vampire Boy was now out of his kitty coffin and staring over at muscular man. “If you don’t get up now, Woody, you’ll miss it. Come on!”
“Bert, why don’t you put on some clothes for Santa’s sake before you rush over here,” beseeched Woody while moving to the coffee pot. He wasn’t going to go out there in the cold without some caffeine in hand. He told Bert the same through the window, then invited him in.
“Woody, you gotta get out here! You’ve got to come now! Now now now!”
“Oh my Santa, Bert. What *is* those?”
In a dream, Old Grey was hobbling up Alpine Way just beyond the western border of Meribel, heading into the oh so white mountains again. “If I can just reach that bench over there I can rest again,” she says to herself. But it was a struggle, like walking uphill at a 60 degree angle.
Hummie the Hummingbird lept off her shoulder again, trying to encourage. “You can do it you can do it you can do it,” the bird twittered at a rapid fire pace in front of her…
…then sped to the bench to wait. Faintly, Old Grey could still hear it trilling the same encouragement at intervals.
“Halfway there maybe,” she said, panting.
“Jesus Christ.” Her whole body was sweating. “And (wheeze) this is still basically level ground.”
Another round of encouragement from Hummie. “You can do it you can do it you can do it.”
Old Grey died from heart failure just in front of the bench. Behind it, Pop-up Rock had come out of his hole to see what all the commotion was all about. “She couldn’t do it she couldn’t do it she couldn’t do it,” Hummie explained.
Old Mabel woke up.