Clark flipped the sign in front of the counter to open, and then went inside the little shack. He sat down and flipped on a switch.
The neon sign outside flickered and buzzed and then emitted a bubblegum pink glow into the waning darkness of the dawn.
Clark's Sherpa Shack, it read.
He didn't have to wait long for the day's first customers. At 7:30 mountain time, a sophomore quad of adventurous females from the local university wandered up to his tiny wooden office that was no larger than a porta potty.
"You ladies looking to head up that there trail there? I" He put a fresh toothpick in his mouth.
"Yessir, but we have never climbed this before," the tallest one of the group started.
"And we don't know the way up," the rest of the group chimed in, nervously.
"Fifty bucks up and down," Clark offered. The tone of his voice left no room for any sort of negotiating.
The girls whispered amongst themselves then nodded in unison. "Deal."
Clark stepped out of his little shack and grabbed his pack that was resting against the back. He hung up a new sign over the over sign. "BRB" it read. He made sure to turn the neon light off.
They proceeded up the mountain with a dainty gait. Not before long, they stopped for a breather and a photoshoot. A few blisters were obtained on the way up and Clark mended to them as a true Sherpa does. He lit a cigarette and looked out into the woods for any feral vermin.
As soon as they neared the summit, the girls took off on a bound to race to the top. Clark joined the group once he made it up and they paused for a group photo. He smiled to himself. He was a bad rad, stone cold Sherpa daddy.
The timber trembled at the top of the mountain. It wasn't long before the girls got cold. Clark acted fast. He gathered some kindling and arranged it into a small teepee. A light rain had fallen that morning, and he knew it was going to be a struggle to get his trusty flint and steel to light.
Clark reached into his pack to look for something dry. He pulled out the only source of paper he had in his backpack- the latest issue of Playboy. In no time flat he had a toasty little fire going.
The girls crowded around him and smiled as he played them Jason Mraz on his ukulele that he had brought with him. They sipped on hot cocoa that he had prepared for them in several cups that he had also brought. He had a bottle of whiskey that he always kept chilled behind a rock. It was too early for that. There was a minor argument when girl #3 discovered that girl #4 had more marshmallows. That argument had ended as soon as Clark strummed the first few chords to his rusty rendition of "I'm yours."
Clark smiled to himself. If he could continue to stall, they would all have no choice but to spend the night in a lean-to that he would be able to construct in 20 minutes flat.
He continued to play the ukulele hot.
Naturally, Clark was the sort of man that read Playboy.
