Um...Don't Kick At Nature

Lol, darn those irritating cousins! Darn them straight to heck!

 

                Angus stared down the pool of black space that spanned beneath his dusty boots.  Water dripped all around him, pinged off the tips of the stalagmites and ran down, eternally dripping, dripping, stealing the water from the grasslands above and hoarding it in the belly of the earth.

                “C’mon, Angus!  Just down to the ledge, right down there!  See it?  It’s only ‘bout ten feet further!”  Sweat oozed on Angus’ brow, his hands were slippery; the sand he was scooting on was slowly cutting his palms.  Angus could rope a steer and bully a bull; he could take down a crazed, mad horse and face off with a cougar with nothing but his pellet gun, he could ask the prettiest girl around to dance with him and even kiss her a few times, but to descend into the pit was the scariest thing he’d ever thought of.  With each inch his heart jumped and pulled with fear, skittish as a colt.

                “Billy, you ain’t got no idea if that ledge can support you!  C’mon back, let’s just sit right here.”  His cousin laughed. 

                “I can’t believe that little Billy would do something big Angus won’t!”  He said, his tone sounding like Angus’ ever-gossiping mother.   “Look, all ya gotta do is jump, jump, just like a mountain goat!”  Billy took the last leap and landed squarely on the ledge, standing there and looking as proud as an Indian over his first killed bear.  Arms akimbo, Billy kicked at some stalagmites congregated around his feet, showing Angus how nonchalant he was.

                “Billy, you get back up here.  I don’t think that ledge is safe.”   Billy ducked his head down and kicked at a rather large stalagmite, sending the tip careening into the abyss.

                “Aw, Angus!” He whined.  Just as suddenly, there was a pop like the sound of a leg breaking, and Billy was toppling over the edge, a misaimed kick taking him right over the side.   Before Angus could move, the whole ledge followed right after him.

                The whole cave rang like a Notre Dame holiday with Billy’s screams, coming from down, down, down, down…Billy’s voice swept around him on bat wings, and then gave up the ghost, and all was silent but for the whistling of the prairie wind at the mouth of the cave, just at Angus’ back. 

Author's Note

I don't know what this is. I woke up thinking about spelunking (cave exploring) and cowboys. This is the result.