Oh Shit!!!

There I was, a lone brave soul on the top of the mountain. Gazing down at the slope before me. My family was still unpacking things a hundred yards from the bottom. It was sledding day. Sure to be a blast because we had just purchased two new sleds. The view was a spectacle like I've never seen before. The sun shining brightly and the sky a crystal clear blue. I don't generally have the guts to brave the biggest slope on the hill but that day was no ordinary day. I suppose I was feeling a little amped. So, there I am, sled in hand, gazing down this enormous slope. A perfect slope for sledding, not too bumpy and not too steep, and with a very gradual slope at the end to ease my transition to the prairie-ish ground below. To the left of the chosen slope was a much more jagged slope with a cliff. I was avoiding that slope like the plague. Cautiously... oh, so cautiously, I began to mount the sled. Being very careful as to not let the sled run away without me. I slowly position one foot on the right side and even more slowly begin to sit on the sled. I had just about completed said mounting when I notice the ground is moving... no, wait, it was ME! I was moving! Oh my god! I quickly throw both feet into the sled and grab the sled like a two year old grabs a sucker. I was not letting go! I notice also that my trajectory puts me straight in line for the CLIFF that I was trying so desperately to avoid. I'm sure this was really funny to watch, but I immediately shat in my pants... Fearing the worst as I barreled, forty million miles per hour, toward the cliff. Cuz it's so hard to gauge how fast you are really going when you're on a sled. The cliff approaches much faster than I thought and before I know it, I'm 35 feet in the air (okay, maybe it was only like 2, but it felt like 35). I try to scream, but I'm scared for my life and the scream does not come out. It's not so much the air time that scared me but the quickly approaching ground. First, the sled made contact with the ground, then, like a fkn semi into a brick wall, I made contact with the sled. Pain shooting though my body like a bullet in my back, I realize that the sled is not going to stop any time soon and I need to get off this fkn thing! I roll slightly to the right and push my elbow into the ground. It takes another eternity to come to a complete stop, so I decide I'm not waiting anymore and begin to get off (still going twenty million miles per hour). I stand slowly only to realize that I can't really stand, and still can't breathe. I begin to walk over the the base of the cliff where I had lost my beloved hat (a gift from my brother). After retrieving my hat I turn and begin the journey back to the car, shat in pants, lungs still empty and screaming for air. I notice that slowly I am beginning to regain my breath, each step brings me closer and closer to a full inhalation that my body so desperately yearns for. I'm almost back to the others and I can see the agony on all their faces, not from empathy of my pain but only because they were trying very hard to stifle the guttural laughs they so crave. Eventually the laughing over takes them and it's all I can hear. I have regained my breath by now and begin to explain that I must visit the bathroom as quickly as possible. The laughing increases. I begin to remove stuff from the truck that may spill, and I'm on my way to clean up. Upon my return I find out that my handicapped brother decided to try a similar slope to mine and hurt his back as well... I would have thought he learned from my experience.