Beat The Clock.

Jan 20 (Late) - Paraglide

The cliff stood over the golden beaches of sunny Southern California. The wind high. The surf was up. The day was perfect...unless your named was Timmy Layton.

"I have a morbid fear of heights," Timmy murmured as the instructor secured him into a harness-like contraption. "I get these irrational thoughts and feel the need to do things to myself."

His friend and current college roommate snorted. "You're irrational, I'll give you that."

"I'm hungover from last night."

"So am I, and half the people waiting in line. Next."

"That bet was rigged and you cheated just to get me on this damn cliff."

Steve nodded in agreement. "True. Yet, that doesn't stop this from happening."

Sweat poured down Timmy's face as he searched for something, anything, to get him out of going over that cliff. The probabilities of death were astronomical. "I'll give fifteen bucks and...and... a breath mint!"

"Huh." Steve pondered the sweaty cash, tossing the mint over his shoulder into a bush. "Tacos do sound nice right now," he murmured.

"Tacos! Let's go get tacos and forget this whole paragliding -"

"Are you ready Mr. Layton?" shouted the instructor over the thundering waves.

"What?"

"Good enough for me." With two hand on his back, he pushed the young man over the edge, watching as his ungraceful form float on the wind currents.

Timmy Layton made it ground safely, screaming every moment until his feet touched solid ground. Steve the Roommate got his tacos. Along with a black eye.