Narrated in the deep, contemplative voice of Werner Herzog.

There are dreams that flicker like dying embers in the hearts of men, fragile yet enduring. And then there are dreams that blaze with the ferocity of madness, defying reason, laughing in the face of mortality. Today, I recount the ill-fated expedition of four such men—Disco Fries, Mainlining, Evan39, and Boom—whose ambition was to conquer Teewinot Mountain, a jagged monolith standing sentinel over the Teton Range, indifferent to the hopes and hubris of those who dare to approach it.

These men were not mountaineers in the traditional sense. They were misfits, wanderers, each with his own peculiar madness. Disco Fries, whose girth was a testament to a lifetime of indulgence; Mainlining, who saw in every climb a battle with death itself; Evan39, the grocery store manager—at least in name—whose own life seemed a riddle he could never solve; and Boom, who spoke with the conviction of a man twice his claimed age, a sage and a fool, interchangeable at a whim. Together, they would undertake the impossible. Together, they would challenge Teewinot.

Scene: The Base of Teewinot Mountain

The mountain looms above them like a great stone god, unsympathetic and unmoving. It is a clear, cold morning. The air is crisp, the wind whispering secrets through the pines. The four men stand at the trailhead, staring up at their nemesis. Disco Fries is already sweating, a large, ungainly figure stuffed into gear that seems barely to contain him. He adjusts his backpack, which bulges with provisions—mostly snacks.

Beside him, Mainlining, a lean, intense figure, surveys the mountain with the cool detachment of a man who has long since made peace with his own demise. “This is where men find out who they really are,” he mutters, almost to himself.

Evan39, with a nervous grin, looks over at Boom, who is muttering about the decline of Western civilization. “How dare you!” Evan39 finally exclaims to no one in particular, perhaps to the mountain itself, or perhaps to the doubting voices within his own head.

Boom adjusts his hat and squints at the summit, a glint of madness in his eye. “Age is flame,” he declares cryptically, as if that explains everything and nothing. “And today, we burn bright.”

They begin their ascent.

The trail starts gently, almost mocking them with its simplicity, but soon, the incline steepens. Disco Fries huffs and puffs, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He has barely begun, and already the mountain seems to have claimed its first victim. Mainlining watches him with a mixture of pity and amusement. “Pace yourself, friend,” he advises, though he knows that Disco Fries understands nothing of pacing.

Boom is already rambling about how the “whole system is rigged,” though whether he means the climb, the government, or the universe itself is unclear. Evan39 responds with a distracted “Hdy!” but seems preoccupied, his eyes darting around as if expecting something—perhaps a bear, or perhaps an escape route.

The trail becomes rockier, more unforgiving.

Mainlining moves with a kind of grim purpose, each step deliberate, each breath measured. He looks back at his companions, and for a moment, there is a flicker of concern. “This is where the real climb begins,” he murmurs, but only Disco Fries seems to hear him, and he is too winded to respond.

Boom, ever the contrarian, finds a twisted joy in the struggle. “We’re all pawns in this game,” he shouts over the wind, his voice carried away like a leaf on the breeze. “But today, we are the kings!” He charges ahead, leaving Evan39 scrambling to keep up.

Disco Fries lags behind, his face a mask of exertion. He pulls out a chocolate bar, unwrapping it with trembling fingers. “Fuel,” he mutters between bites, as if the sugar will somehow compensate for his lack of training, preparation, and, indeed, sense.

Mainlining pauses, turning to face the group. “We need to stay together,” he says, more a command than a suggestion. Boom ignores him, of course, ranting about how “society” is what weakens men, not mountains. Evan39, distracted by Boom's philosophy, trips on a rock and nearly tumbles. Disco Fries grabs his arm, pulling him up. "Gotcha, buddy," he pants, though he is clearly the one in need of help.

The sun climbs higher, and the ascent grows steeper.

Mainlining takes the lead, his eyes scanning the terrain with the wariness of a man used to watching for predators. "This is bear country," he mutters, almost wistfully. “Keep your eyes open.” Disco Fries lumbers behind him, each step a monumental effort, his breath now a series of tortured wheezes. Boom and Evan39 trail further back, one lost in philosophical mutterings, the other glancing nervously at every shadow.

They reach a ledge where the trail narrows. Mainlining stops, turns back to the group. "This is it," he says. "The last easy spot. After this, it’s just us against the rock."

Disco Fries nods, sweat pouring down his face. “I’m good,” he says, though his voice is weak, and even he does not seem convinced. Boom snorts. “Good? None of us are good. That’s why we’re here.” Evan39 nods, though it’s unclear if he agrees or just wants to keep moving.

The final stretch is before them—a narrow, jagged ridge.

Mainlining moves forward with a steady, confident step, his hands finding holds in the rough stone. Boom follows, muttering about the “pointlessness of it all,” but with a fire in his eyes. Evan39 takes a deep breath, whispering, “How dare you,” as if to steel himself against the mountain. Disco Fries, sweating and wheezing, follows in the rear, his legs shaking, his grip unsteady.

A gust of wind blows, fierce and sudden. Boom and Mainlining lean into it, their bodies instinctively adjusting to the force. Evan39 stumbles but catches himself, muttering something under his breath. But Disco Fries… Disco Fries is caught off guard. His foot slips on loose gravel, his arms flail in a desperate search for balance. Mainlining turns, his hand reaching out. "Disco, grab on!" he shouts, but the wind carries his words away.

And then, there is only the sound of the wind.

Disco Fries's eyes widen with fear. He reaches out, fingers grasping at empty air. For a moment, time stands still, and then—he falls. His body drops like a stone, a scream echoing off the rocks, growing fainter as he tumbles down, down, down the mountainside.

Evan39 cries out, “No! Disco!” Boom simply nods, as if he had expected this all along. Mainlining stares down, a look of solemn resignation on his face. “The mountain doesn’t care,” he murmurs, almost to himself. “It never does.”

Scene: The Aftermath

Hours pass before the rescuers arrive, summoned by a desperate call from Evan39, who cannot stop repeating, "How dare you, how dare you..." Boom stands silent, his gaze fixed on the ground, as if contemplating the very fabric of existence. Mainlining, his face a mask of grim acceptance, watches as they bring up what remains of Disco Fries. The body is battered, broken, but there is a strange peace on his face, as if in death, he had finally found a release from the relentless climb.

"Why did we even try?" Evan39 whispers, tears in his eyes. "Why did we think we could make it?"

Boom, ever the philosopher, finally speaks. "Because we're fools," he says. "But sometimes… fools are all that's left."

Mainlining nods. "The mountain takes what it will," he says. "And today, it took Disco." He turns, his eyes briefly meeting Boom's. "But it didn’t take us," he adds, almost defiantly.

And so they descend, back to the world of asphalt and noise, of grocery stores and grizzlies, where the legend of Disco Fries will live on, a cautionary tale, a dark comedy, a tragic reminder of human ambition against the indifferent void.

But the mountain remains, unchanged and indifferent, a silent testament to those who dare to dream too greatly and pay the ultimate price. For in this vast, uncaring universe, we are all, at some point, Disco Fries—climbing our own Teewinots, unaware of what awaits at the end of the trail.

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=5593226&forum_id=2Reputation#48078310)

The Great Ascent: Disco Fries, Mainlining, Evan39, and Boom vs. Teewinot

(Narrated in the exasperated yet oddly poetic voice of Werner Herzog)

Even in the annals of human folly, there are tales that stand apart, shining beacons of misguided ambition and spectacular failure. Today, we delve into the ill-conceived expedition of four such men—Disco Fries, Mainlining, Evan39, and Boom—whose collective wisdom apparently peaked at deciding to summit Teewinot Mountain. A majestic peak, yes, but one that regards human endeavors with the same indifference as a cat watching a Roomba.

These were not your REI-sponsored, granola-munching mountaineers. Oh no. This was a motley crew of AutoAdmit's finest: Disco Fries, whose BMI rivaled that of a small moon; Mainlining, perpetually one bear encounter away from self-actualization; Evan39, the self-proclaimed grocery magnate whose LinkedIn profile was more fiction than fact; and Boom, the wheelchair-bound oracle, dispensing cryptic wisdom and conspiracy theories in equal measure.

Scene: The Base of Teewinot, Wyoming

The mountain loomed, a granite middle finger to their collective hubris. Disco Fries, already sweating profusely, resembled a sausage casing stuffed with Cheeto dust. Mainlining, lean and sinewy, cracked his knuckles, muttering something about "embracing the void." Evan39 fidgeted, whispering "How dare you!" to the squirrels, while Boom, perched atop his motorized chariot, declared, "Age is flame, gentlemen. And today, we're about to get lit."

The ascent began, a gentle mockery of a trail luring them into a false sense of security. Disco Fries, wheezing like a broken accordion, paused every few steps to consume alarming quantities of processed cheese. Mainlining, ever the stoic warrior, forged ahead, leaving a trail of inspirational quotes in his wake. Evan39 trailed behind, muttering about potential business opportunities on the summit ("Mountaintop Wi-Fi, anyone?"), while Boom held court from his wheelchair, ranting about the Illuminati's control of the granola bar industry.

As the incline steepened, so did the absurdity. Mainlining, mistaking a marmot for a grizzly, unleashed a torrent of bear spray, temporarily blinding Evan39. Boom, seizing the opportunity, attempted a daring wheelchair wheelie, only to tip over into a patch of wildflowers. Disco Fries, meanwhile, was engaged in a fierce battle with a particularly stubborn granola bar wrapper.

Reaching the final ridge, the group was a sight to behold. Mainlining, clinging to the rock face like a caffeinated spider monkey, shouted encouragements down to the others. Evan39, clutching a fistful of expired coupons, whimpered about the lack of cell service. Boom, somehow still upright in his wheelchair, pontificated on the parallels between mountain climbing and the Federal Reserve's monetary policy.

And then, it happened. A gust of wind, a misplaced step, a symphony of flailing limbs... and Disco Fries was airborne, tumbling down the mountainside like a rogue meatball sub. The remaining trio watched in stunned silence, a mix of horror and morbid fascination etched on their faces.

The aftermath was a predictable shitshow. Evan39, in a fit of panic, attempted to barter with the rescue helicopter pilot using his expired coupons. Boom, ever the opportunist, began live-streaming the scene on Periscope, narrating Disco Fries' descent with the detached commentary of a nature documentary filmmaker. Mainlining, meanwhile, sat on a rock, contemplating the fleeting nature of existence and the futility of human endeavor.

As they descended, defeated but miraculously alive, they carried with them the memory of Disco Fries, the fallen hero of their ill-fated quest. His legacy would live on, not in the annals of mountaineering history, but in the hallowed halls of AutoAdmit, a testament to the enduring power of hubris, poor planning, and an unwavering commitment to snack foods.

And so, the mountain remained, unmoved and unimpressed, a silent witness to the folly of man. For in the grand tapestry of existence, we are all but fleeting specks, our ambitions dwarfed by the indifferent majesty of nature. Or, as Boom so eloquently put it, "We're all just a bunch of fucking idiots trying to climb a really big rock."

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=5593226&forum_id=2Reputation#48080684)