Cold Spring, NY—In what he referred to as a desperate attempt to escape from constant advertising bombardment, election pageantry, ubiquitous technology and other abysmal aspects of what some pedestrians refer to as American civilization, club-footed curmudgeon, Dill Marshall, miraculously climbed Breakneck Ridge mountain with his hiking buddy, Bill Biles.

But not before running into some obstacles.

Not even 10 minutes after beginning the ascent, Marshall found a tick on his leg to his dismay.

“I just kind of plucked it off and tossed it away. I figured if I were to get Lyme Disease, it was meant to be. If I die, I die. Whatever,” Marshall said coolly, concealing that he was terrified of contracting the deadly disease.

The climb continued as Biles powered through a caffeine prompted anxiety attack which allowed the two amateur hikers to reach the halfway point. At this point, the birth defected faultfinder found his anhedonic inability to enjoy normal people things really put the test.

“Sure enough, when we got halfway up, some dumb bastards had written their Instagram and Twitter handles on the side of the mountain. Isn’t anything sacred anymore?” said the 24 going on 80-year-old man.

Shrugging off the sight of the defiled mountain, Marshall gazed into the beautiful landscape view from the mountain and right when he thought he was beginning to feel at one with nature his silent Zen was interrupted by what Bill called ‘city trash.’

“This ain’t even the top, dickhead!” said the oblivious moron to what was assumed to be his friend.

Marshall could feel the rage tickling beneath his stupid fucking face, but chose to suppress and sublimate it by pressing on up the mountain.

The bottled up anger and fading anxiety were enough for them to reach the summit where they snacked on beef jerky and dried apricots in celebration. They also conversed with a mysterious mountain man who must have been high on mushrooms based on the far out shit he was saying.

The hard part was over. Or so they thought. The descent wasn’t without trouble.

About halfway down, trying to make it back before dark, Marshall realized he had forgotten his sweatshirt somewhere near the top.

So he raced back up the mountain determined to find it. After looking for entirely too long to no avail, Marshall concluded it was just some shitty sweatshirt from Kohl’s that he could replace for 15 to 20 bucks and it wasn’t worth dying on a cold, dark mountain for.

The idiot later realized it was in another compartment of his backpack.

Biles and Marshall finally reached the bottom and got back into the car, set to head back into society just as the sun was beginning to set.

Feeling satisfied overall with his first trip into the mountains on the ride home, while he and Bill reflected on the day’s events, Marshall spotted a sign that read:

Donald J. Trump State Park

“Damn. Should have jumped off that mountain when I had the chance,” said the congenitally disordered societal misfit.