The Story of Elk Mountain by Jacob Marlin

 

 

Jacob Marlin, a man whose beard rivaled the thickness of a pine bough, squinted up at Elk Mountain. "Stephen," he declared, wiping sweat from his brow, "that there mountain's plumb disrespectin' us!"

Stephen Sewell, a wiry fellow with a perpetually surprised look, followed Jacob's gaze. "Disrespectin' us, Jacob? How so?"

"Look at it, Stephen! Standin' there all proud and majestic, like it's the king of these hills. We, the founders of Marlinton, deserve a mountain that shows some darn appreciation!"

Stephen chuckled.  "Well, Jacob, mountains ain't exactly known for their manners. Maybe we should give it a taste of its own medicine?"

A glint sparked in Jacob's eye.  "By gum, Stephen, you're a genius! We'll build us a mountain... bigger and better!"

Their plan was outrageous. They’d build a colossal mound of earth, taller than even Elk Mountain. They rallied the townsfolk, promising a "Superior Summit Spectacular." Days blurred into weeks as they toiled under the relentless sun, piling dirt, rocks, and even their old washboards (because, Jacob insisted, "mountains need good drainage").

Finally, the day arrived. The "Superior Summit" stood proud, a hilariously lopsided hillock topped with a weather-beaten rocking chair they called "The Peak of Power." The townspeople, bless their hearts, tried their best to look impressed.

Suddenly, a booming voice echoed across the valley. Atop Elk Mountain stood a colossal elk, its antlers scraping the clouds. "Howdy, neighbors!" it bellowed. "That there looks mighty uncomfortable. You folks need help gettin' down from that… uh… impressive structure?"

 Jacob and Stephen looked at their "mountain" in the harsh light of day. It looked less impressive and more like a giant mud pie. Stephen cleared his throat. "Well, uh, Mr. Elk, seems we overestimated our mountain-building skills. Fancy joinin' us for some celebratory squirrel stew?"

The elk chuckled, a sound like boulders tumbling. "Sounds mighty tasty. Just a heads-up, though, mountains ain't built in a day, or a week, or even with a whole lot of washboards."

From then on, Elk Mountain remained the undisputed king of the hills. The "Superior Summit" became a local joke, a testament to Marlinton's spirit and Jacob Marlin's questionable architectural taste. But whenever a stranger asked about the odd hillock, the townsfolk would grin and share the tale of the day they tried to outdo a mountain – and learned a valuable lesson about humility (and good drainage).