Hot Air Balloon Ride

While walking toward a cliff, I saw a sign that read “Free Hot Air Balloon Ride: Only $500 Dollars!” So I paid for a ticket and climbed inside. 

The balloon went up, and, when we were high in the air, I began to nestle with the other passengers, who were all suburban housewives. 

“This is fun,” they said; “you have a soothing touch, although you are stronger than a muscleman.” 

“Many thanks,” I said, as we continued to nestle, “I hope that our balloon doesn’t hit a sharp boulder, because, it’s my understanding that, if its hot air were to pop out, we passengers in this basket beneath would fall head-first to the ground, which would have the same effect on our neck and brain as the pile-driver move in professional wrestling. This type of death I imagine as soot-gray in color, and there’s an old dog roaming around in a junkyard.” 

Luckily, however, we avoided being drop-kicked and power-bombed through an oak wood shed, and none of us got choked by the rusty cable that kept swooping at us. — We made it safely to our destination, Salzburg, and landed softly in a field of green grass. Waiting there on the ground to greet us with friendly smiles were Lance Storm, Trish Stratus, and Mikey Whipwreck.