Mountain Jeff.
It was a fantastically beautiful geological era. And, even though all the other landforms were out partying, Mount Jeff was home, checking his mountain email for the tenth time in two minutes.
“Nothing but spam,” he thought—a thought that spanned decades of erosion and climate and tectonic activity, all pockmarked, however slightly, with a distinct yet indescribably sad current of mountain loneliness.
Mount Jeff let out a mountain sigh, badly disturbing a billy goat.
With nothing to do, he checked his mountain email spam folder. “I’m so pathetic,” he thought. He read the first one.
“Enhance your albedo!” it read.
Mount Jeff chuckled to himself.
“Wouldn’t it be ironic—” (Even though Mount Jeff was only 2% iron and had no idea what it was like, he thought it was cool to throw that word around anyway.) “—if I bought some?”
But Mount Jeff secretly hoped it would work. All his friends with girlmountains had positively glowing faces. When he brought it up, they would rumble, “No; I think you look brilliant.” But he was convinced he looked duller.
Mount Jeff let out another mountain sigh. The billy goat bleated furiously, decided to seek solace in a more self-secure home, and left. “Just like all my dates,” Mount Jeff thought with his big, sad, boulder thoughts.