As they hiked through the mountains, Art and Lance came upon a rickety old wooden bridge spanning a gorge. Lance eyed it warily for a moment then started to cross it, but Art just stood staring at it expectantly and muttering to himself.
“Come on already, Art!” Lance called.
“Why not? Afraid of heights?”
“No. I don’t know the air-speed velocity of an unladen swallow!”
Lance sighed. “Of all the…Art, this isn’t the Gorge of Eternal Peril or the Bridge of Death! There’s no Bridgekeeper to worry about! Now come on, you Monty Python nut! It’s getting late!”
Lance crossed the bridge and the gorge safely and Art followed, albeit a bit more hesitantly.
This post is part of the Tuesday Use It In A Sentence prompt, “gorge”: