"Me next." I whispered. It wasn't the decent that scared me, but the bottom. In fact, I liked climbing. I declined the rope that was offered to me, and started going down. "Easy peasy!" I shouted. "Nothing to be afraaaaaa-"
I started falling. "This is gonna hurt!" I yelled to myself. I had just enough time to put my stick vertical, flung myself closer to the wall, and jam my stick into the wall. It stuck. My trusty old stick was strong. I hung there, legs flailing, my arms starting to hurt more than the screaming pain in the rest of my body. I grabbed onto the wall, and started climbing down again.
I got to the bottom, and flung myself on the sure, strong, horizontal ground, more of gratitude than anything else. I whimpered like an abused puppy. One person came to help me to my feet.
"Get up, c'mon." The hand was offered to me. I grabbed it, stood up, and felt the pain of the perilous decent shoot through my nerves.
"Thanks alot... Spook." I grinned. "Does this mean I'll have to give up making jokes about you so soon?"
"That would seem the case, would it not?"