Climbing up this
massive beanstalk was fairly easy, so it stands to reason that climbing
back down should be a pinch! Hopefully, it will be, otherwise you'll be
getting a close look at those turbine engines on that 747. You scramble
back to the stalk and start shimmying down as fast as your chubby thighs
can handle.
Your hands are a blur in front of you as you speedily work your way
downward. You think you might be clear of the jet already, but you
continue to on down, confident that the plane is on the first of many
dangers that await you on the clouds above. Adventure really isn't your
forte anyhow. By now, you're sure that everything in your rearranged,
snake-infested basement has sorted itself out, and with fear giving you
an extra bit of speed, you should be back there in no time.
You look up once more to see the jet thundering past, clipping the upper
portion of the stalk and sucking a small chunk into one of the engines.
Said engine erupts in flames and the plane quickly descends, spitting a
mangled and burnt chunk of beanstalk at you. It barely misses, coming
close enough that you can smell the smoke coming off of it. It smells
like roasting pork. How odd. As you follow the chunk's path to the
ground with your eyes, you realize that the smoke is coming from you! A
friction fire has broken out in your corduroy pants thanks to all that
shimmying. You try to slow down enough to bat out the flames, but the
burnt thighs beneath are too raw to grip the stalk, and you fall. The
good news is the high winds put out your flaming pants.
