I am reading Into Thin Air.  It’s a book about an ill-fated expedition up Mount Everest.  Actually, I am not to the ill fate part yet.  Right now the book is merely ominously foreboding.  There is a lot of diarrhea and headaches and stories of Sherpas who died because their lives aren’t as valuable as rich, white people.  As you can see, it is not an uplifting tale.  It’s more in the Folly Of Man vein.

Anyway, while the story is interesting and well-written I know what’s going to happen.  That is because the same thing happens in every mountain climbing tragedy story.  People take too much time to get to the summit due to stupidity, inexperience, greed, pride, ignorance, general slowness etc., and then they get killed on the way back.  For the most part, their demise comes about due to exposure.  But sometimes they die more spectacularly.  Maybe they fall into a crevasse or they are crushed by a giant glob of ice.  Or they merely trip and fall.  This doesn’t sound too deadly until you realize that they then hurtle down 3000 vertical feet of mountain at about 80 miles per hour.  And faces, dear reader, are a poor substitute for brakes.

Enterprising American that I am, I have a book idea that will spice up the Mountain/Man’s Folly/Senseless Death tale.  Actually, I have two ideas.  The first would be called “Death Zone,” in reference to the space above 26000 feet.  Except, in my story, it isn’t the lack of oxygen that gets you.  It is the family of Yetis.  In this tale of Himalayan Horror, Yetis lurk in the shadowy recesses of the mountain, patiently waiting for the opportunity to tear unsuspecting mountaineers to pieces.  I suppose they should probably eat people, too.

The second movie would be called “Sherpa.”  As you may know, Sherpas are the local mountain people well known for carrying tourists and their belongings up and down Everest (and other mountains).  They are very helpful.  But not in my movie.  They are actually a gang of crazed killers- kind of like a Wrong Turn with a Buddhist twist.  They should probably eat people as well.  “I’m thinking of going out for Japanese tonight, Tenzing,” says Dorap Sherpa with a murderous gleam in his eyes.

“I don’t know, Dorap.  Maybe we should try a little French cuisine.  Hey, Pierre?”

“MMMMMPPHHHH,” says Pierre.  Or maybe that should be “LE MMMMMPPHHH.”  I don’t know.  The only French I’ve ever studied has been in Russian novels.  Actually, I just skipped over it and tried to guess what it meant by context.

Regardless, while neither of these movies are the second coming of Casablanca, I do feel they have a market.  The Syfy Channel for example.  Someone call Ian Ziering and Tiffany to see what they are up to.  Also, I’d like to cast Danny Bondaduce as the obnoxious American mountain guide.  He could try to make a move on a transvestite Sherpa, only to be killed by a pickaxe to his man region.

And while his lifeblood oozes from his crotch, we hear David Cassidy singing “I think I love you….”  Or the Sherpa could say, “I love Barry Williams…”

The possibilities are endless.