I was sitting by a stream when an old man carrying a worn out map, walked up to the stream, crossed it, and made a mark on his map.
I’ve done it, he shouted. I finally done it.
I got up and walked to the stream edge and asked him done what
I’ve climbed every mountain and forwarded every stream, he said. I did everything that singing bitch told me to do, and I finally done it.
He showed me the map, and sure enough, every mountain and stream had been marked with ink.
Congratulations, I said. And we hugged.