The Personification of Evil

Yesterday I finally vanquished an age-old foe. The personification of evil, if you will. You see, some eleven years ago, I was but a small, innocent child in Beaver Creek Ski School. It was an icy day, the kind that would make Professor Coldheart maniacally laugh with joy, and my group was skiing down the moderate to easy blue hill known as Bitterroot. All a little boy wanted was to finish ski school and enjoy an overpriced hot cocoa, but Bitterroot, that villainous rogue, had other plans. At the end of the hill, Bitterroot turns off onto a catwalk, but on this iciest of days, your young hero's skis would not edge, and Bitterroot flung me into the dark abyss. (In reality, about 20 ft. into the air before being knocked unconscious by a conveniently located tree.) Bitterroot's base and vile nature was only full revealed in the aftermath of "the incident", when it manipulated ski patrol into not notifying my parents for several hours, leaving me, alone, with nothing to watch but endless coverage of the O.J. Simpson trial. Bitterroot owned me, and it cast a dark pale over my very existence. Until yesterday.

Yesterday. The day I bravely trod where only countless thousands had trod before. A grueling effort to reach the summit (8 minute lift ride) and there I was, face to face with He that had wronged me oh so many years ago. I skied. I conquered my age-old enemy. I bellowed to the heavens and praised the almighty Zoroaster. I slew the Dragon, smote his ruin upon the mountainside, and rescued the fair Lady Gwendolyn, winning her heart in the process.

Alright, so maybe that last part is a bit embellished for the benefit of the narrative. But just that last bit. I promise.