Part One - Fortuity

    Crinkle sat at the counter of the Buckaroo Tavern, a hippie and biker bar just a block from his apartment.  Midway through his pitcher, Crinkle looked to his left to see a mountain had sidled up next to him.  With his girlfriend but a drunken memory, he began to talk to the mountain, which he learned was none other than Mt. Brooke, of local climbing legend.  It occurred to Crinkle that with just one more pitcher of beer, he could conquer that mountain.  Crinkle slapped the barkeep on the back and boisterously shouted "How 'bout a pitcher for me an' my mountain-friend here!"  With a surly smile, the bartender produced a pitcher of foam.

Part Two - Fortification

    Back at Crinkle's apartment, he realized he needed to fortify himself for such a journey and produced a six-pack of Sam Adams.  While Crinkle and Mt. Brooke glugged their first bottle, Mt. Brooke produced a small bag of courage-inducing marijuana from her pocket.  Now Crinkle truly understood his grandfather's analogy, "Handier than hip pockets on a hog."  After two beers and bowls, Crinkle began his quest for the Valley of Lost Souls which lurked deep within the mountain's basin.  While the mountain loomed over Crinkle, he recollected the soft water balloons that wouldn't break when thrown at his brother.

Part Three - The Quest

    Crinkle had been attempting to find the entrance to the famed valley for about 45 minutes, feeling his way along the backside of Mt. Brooke; but he had not counted on having to cross such an expanse with nothing to lead him but his hands in such a state of blind drunkenness.  The mountain above him was large as ever, and Crinkle wished he had packed a lunch as he continued to struggle to reach the valley. 
    Suddenly, Crinkle found himself atop the mountain but had still not found the valley.  Hallucinations from altitude sickness began to take hold, and Crinkle envisioned a thin, beautiful girl as he dry humped.

Part Four - Realization

    From somewhere deep within one of the mountain's hollows, Crinkle heard the wind whisper, "I won't have sex with you tonight."
    Crinkle babbled back to his hallucination, "I didn't ask you to," and continued to feel, just barely, a burning sensation on his cock.  Soon Crinkle began to realize something was wrong----in fact, cock-burn from his corduroys had pulled him from his hallucinations and he realized that he was not hiking at all, but rather he was lying atop a mountain of soft flesh loosely clad in sweats.
    While the mountain hoarded his bed that night, Crinkle looked at his thimble-cock in the mirror, only to see a strawberry similar to a floor burn.