The Holy Mountain of Fire

We bore southwards from Rome seeking the Holy Mountain of Fire of which the king spoke. The camels reached speeds of 292kmh according to their on-board screens. The futures traders in Dubai certainly knew their game. The camels tired after an hour at that pace, so we traded them for some stable blue-chip horses at the local stock exchange.

On the fourth hour, we came across a mighty volcano that we concluded must surely be the Holy Mountain of Fire! We sought lodging in a quaint hillside stable with a superb swimming pool, but were denied entry due to an online reservation mix-up.

Needing shelter from the constant 29 degree days with light winds and blue skies, we took lodgings in a more modern stable with many white tiles and a jacuzzi on the roof that had views of the Holy Mountain of Fire. From here, we surmised, we could wait for ideal weather, plan our ascent and find a virgin to sacrifice.

Lexie was pretty sure she’d packed a virgin in her toiletry bag, but it could not be found amid the hair products. With a window of ideal climbing weather approaching, a tough decision was necessary – which of our innocent children would we sacrifice?

As we set out for the holy mountain, where no other westerner had set foot, we kept our plans a secret from the children. Instead, we mused over which eminent Australian we would name the mountain after. After robust debate, we settled on a working title of Mount Pellissimo.

As we neared the top, we told Leo the good news that he wouldn't have to walk down again. He seemed okay with that and peered over the rim, contemplating how long he had to live. Archie looked pretty pissed though, knowing he'd have to walk back down.

Then, a miracle happened! Thunder rumbled and a sign appeared saying ‘danger, do not climb over the fence'. A flash of lightning struck Lexie in the midriff, instantly charging her smartphone. This was helpful; we were now able to interpret the king's instruction manual using a translation app.

It turned out we boys may have been slightly off the mark with the virgin sacrifice thing. Depending on tonal inflections, one might instead interpret the trade protocol as 'make sure you have at least one gelato and an Aperol Spritz each day'.

We learnt a lesson that day on the dangers of assumptions. (The word 'assume' derives from "makes an 'ass' out of 'u' and 'me'".) Imagine what the world would be like today if society was founded on centuries-old, random interpretations of ancient languages! Imagine!

Anyway, the very next day Mount Pellissimo erupted, burying our lodgings in ash. Thankfully we were at the beach at the time. We naturally interpreted the eruption as a sign of displeasure from the gods – perhaps Mount Pellissimo is not an acceptable name?

Whilst the surviving villagers had lost their homes and relatives, this was nothing compared to the loss of our designer adventuring outfits. We tried to convince them to stop wailing and start digging, however they refused to listen to sense and continued to beat their chests and perform wild gesticulations.

There was nothing of ours that could be salvaged. We'd be crossing the Italian Wilderness in our board shorts and thongs.