Himalayan Beans

Deep in the Himalayas sits a unique ancient monastery that draws attention from a small but intensely passionate community - the society of peppered beans enthusiasts. This particular monastery has adapted with the times and sports a large neon sign that can be read from a distance: “World’s Best Peppered Beans”. 

That glowing sign in the early evening is currently the guiding star for Tiberius, who has waited his entire 42 year life for this opportunity. Freshly jet-lagged from his flight half-way across the world, Tiberius takes a short break half way up his trek to the mother of all peppered beans where he ponders his journey thus far. 

Uncharacteristic of the region of the world, and especially uncharacteristic of a mountain trail, Tiberius couldn’t help but notice multiple instances of stray sliced deli meat laying on the ground. At first he brushed it off as nothing - perhaps a fellow peppered bean enthusiast accidentally dropped their sandwich on their way up to the monastery. However, the intent that was evident by the consistency of these meat markings made Tiberius start to question what kind of people he was associating himself with as a member of the society. A shiver goes down Tiberius’ spine at the thought of this. 

Tiberius resumed his trek - his calves were still burning but his passion and yearning for peppered beans continued to drive one leg in front of the other. After another couple hours, Tiberius was close enough to start smelling brief whiffs of the magnificent concoction wisping out of the monastery and to see the glow from the sign, but it was still out of sight. 

Distracted by the scented sensation, Tiberius slips on a slice of salami, smashing his knee on a rock and begins tumbling back down through his tracks. Before long, Tiberius reaches a short plateau that allows his scraping arms to stop his fall. His head still spinning, Tiberius musters up his last bit of passion-fueled strength to stand-up, but falls back down and passes out as soon as he tries to walk on his bloodied knee. 

Tiberius awakens to a darker sky than he remembers, where the glow from the neon sign is all the more pronounced. As his environment comes into focus, Tiberius notices a piece of salami laying next to him. Could this be the one that nearly sent him to his doom? In a bout of rage, Tiberius shoves the salami into his mouth and begins dragging himself up towards the glow as salty salami attacks his taste buds. 

With the sign in full view, Tiberius drags himself right up to the entrance of the monastery. One could mistake it for being the middle of the day given how much the sign light up the environment. A few drags from the entrance, Tiberius spots through a window what seems to be a monk with a chef hat walking up to the entrance. The open sign gets flipped to ‘Sorry, we’re closed’ followed by complete darkness as the neon sign is extinguished. 

“NOOO!” Tiberius bellows while slamming his fist into the ground. Emotionally and physically spent, Tiberius flips on his back and gazes into the night sky while pondering how his life lead to this moment of salami sabatoge.