“Not one more step.”
"Aw, c'mon, Frank," Vic argued. "We've already climbed 40 steps. Don't give up now."
Frank grumbled. "These steps are wet from the rain and I'm frightened of slipping and falling."
The two friends were out for a long stroll during their first day on the holiday isle and had spotted the tower high up on a hill. Built into the steep slope was a set of 200 steps. Vic could just about make out a plaque affixed to the stonework.
"Aren't you even slightly curious about the tower?" Vic asked. "It must be a monument or memorial of some kind. There's no-one else about, probably because of the gloomy weather. So if you do fall, nobody will witness your embarrassment."
"It's not humiliation I'm worried about. It's breaking my neck that concerns me."
Vic stared up at the tower. "Well, I'm going. I like to explore new territory while battling the elements, even though it's only drizzling."
"Yeah, you're the warrior. I'm the worrier," Frank responded.
Vic shrugged and started to climb the remaining 160 steps, leaving his pal to descend carefully the 40 steps back to ground level.
Three hours later, the two holidaymakers emerged from the town hospital, Frank helping support his companion who was bandaged and on crutches.
"Let's get you back to the hotel," said Frank. "Incidentally, with all the excitement, I didn't ask about the tower. Did you manage to read the plaque before you tumbled?"
Vic stifled a painful cry. "It's just a flaming telecommunication structure." "So why the plaque?"
"It's a notice warning the workers to wear heavy-duty boots on the steps if the weather is poor. You know what, Frank, I'm going to telecommunicate a complaint when we get home."