Above It All Part 2: Why Stairs Were Invented By Satan

See I have a logical process.
Heaven is up, right? That's what those crazy Jesus freaks tell us. Stairs were invented by Satan so that getting up towards Heaven would be as difficult and painful as possible.

This was proved a few days ago when I and two victims made our way up up up to the top of Notre Dame. 400 steps. I didn't count them, owing to my brain slowly dying from lack of oxygen. Every time I thought we were getting close, it turned out we were only at the giftshop. We were not allowed to leave the giftshop until the subliminal tourist-aimed messages had penetrated our brains to the point of making us spend a certain amount of euros. It almost worked on me, luckily I realized that a Fleur de Lemon or Notre Dame pin might mark me as one of the aforementioned Jesus freaks.

I also wanted the 1500 piece puzzle of the Paris skyline at night, but the last time I tried to do a puzzle at mom's house, she killed me.

"Come join the gods, come join the gods, who wants to come with me and come join the gods?"

But we got up there and it did slightly resemble heaven. The view was amazing and we kept going higher and higher until we were getting smacked in the head by cell phone satelites. We met a lot of gargoyles who strongly resembled my family members. And there was a man in a Quasimodo mask doing street theatre for the people in line. Very funny. Today I picked up a very very cheap copy of The Hunchback of Notre Dame just for giggles. The lil bunny took many pictures of me and of pidgeons.

"High in the sky, high in the sky, who wants to come with me and hide in the sky?"

It rained and winded and there were loud obnoxious koreans and also some very very fat americans. I swear to god there are only four of them and they just made thousands of clones of the same 8 months pregnant man with a fanny pack and dressed in shorts and sunglasses tied to his head with one of those cords I had to wear when I was a kid so they wouldn't break when I fell off of stuff. Also his fat, ill-groomed, hyperactive children. Usually two, a girl and a boy. And his wife, usually wearing the exact same clothes as her husband, desperately in need of a new hairstyle and some skin-softening cream.

Going down was harder then going up, as the steps were very slippery, and we were already quite shakey. Afterwards we found the mommy-doll and she and the three semi-catatonic dolls went to get drinks. My legs were being very vocal in their opinions of my activities, and refused to stop shaking. I firmy believe that they were trying to escape from further torture. They calmed down when I fed them a coke, which I would happily have killed for to change my poor appendages from jello back into Fedora.

Many other exciting things have happened in the last two days, but that's for the next time mom nags me into typing something that isn't a puzzle pirate command.

Pictures are courtesy of the lil bunny, big church is courtesy of Jesus, big city is courtesy of the Romans. The lyrics are System of a Down. Yeah, that's right, I like them. And I'm sick of people missaying their name! It spells SOAD! It's not hard! And the next cultural studies professor who gets it wrong is gonna get bit!