Dear Ask Boz,

Dear Rodger,

It took me at least 27 seconds to figure out who the three greatest people in my life are: ME. Much like Insane-Americans everywhere, I have mutliple personalities. The personality writing this is "Ask Boz." The three hanging on for dear life are Boz, Mark, and Jeff. We will take them in that order.

Boz: If you look closely, Boz is smiling and whistling a jaunty little tune. Why is this? Because Boz is imaginary. Imaginary people are constantly hanging off cliffs, or getting in gun battles, or falling through a gap in space/time, or even having some nice pistachio ice-cream. So he's just going to hang there, assuming it will all work out like it always does. Let's see if he's right.

Mark: Mark is freaking out! As the most real of my personas, he is not prepared to deal with this. Plus, he has a bunch of essays to correct and he's being observed by his principal on Monday morning. How the hell is he going to do that hanging from a cliff? And what is Patty going to think? She's going to be mad - he was supposed to be mowing the lawn!

Stress is making his muscles weak; the strain of holding on is making him sweat. Closing his eyes tightly, he focuses all of his will to keep holding on.

Jeff: That leaves it to my oldest personality to save the day. Sweet, innocent, awkward Jeff. The geek that got beat up in school. The nerd that could not attract girls with a Ronco Girl-Attractor DoHerLator. Or a Death Star tractor beam. He only survived his high school years by inventing a rich fantasy world where he was the hero, the savior. A mixture Han Solo cool, Harry Potter nice, Aragorn brave and Neo powerful.

He knows that this is the time for action! With a fierce grin, Jeff let's go with one hand and pulls the twelve-inch knife from his boot. He puts the blade in his mouth like he always does: so it cuts his lip a little. The taste of his own blood reminds him he that fear is just another kind of fire.

He looks over to the right at the others. The cords in Mark's neck are as tense as piano wires, his hands barely clinging to the ledge. But Boz is in worse shape; he's itching his lower back with one hand and he is texting with the other. Soon he'll realize he's not holding on and fall.

Jeff doesn't hesitate. He grabs the knife from his mouth, and with a mighty heave swings over to Mark. He plunges the knife through Mark's left hand and deep into the stone. Jeff swings from the handle of the knife high into the air, creating a rushing wind that cannot drown out Mark's anguished scream.

Boz looks up with an absent-minded smile at the noise. His eyes widen as he sees Jeff flying towards him. Their blue eyes lock; time freezes. In both their minds they see what to do.

Boz allows himself to fall. Jeff is flying over. He reaches his arms down and Boz grabs his hands and kicks up his legs. Jeff flips over him and pulls. Boz lets go and arcs up into the air, gracefully turning over to land on the ledge.

He looks back to see Jeff throw his rope at a tree growing from the cliff side. Made with Elven magic, the rope coils itself around the bole, and Jeff lets out a war-whoop as he cuts through the air, spins around the tree, and lands in a squat next to Boz.

The two of them clap each other on the back, their smiles saying all that is needed. With a friendly arm around each other's shoulder, they saunter toward their waiting horses.

"Uhhhh. Guys!?!" Boz and Jeff stop, and start laughing at the same time. They forgot about Mark! They rush back. Boz grabs Mark's free arm and Jeff pulls out the knife that had pinned him to the cliff. Jeff makes a quick poultice using the dried athelas leaves he has in his pouch. The wrap it around Mark's hand.

Mark looks a little pissed about the wound. Boz puts his hand around his shoulder and says, "At least it's not your correcting hand." The three laugh as one.

Boz

Last time: Who would win in a fight, a panda or a giraffe?

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