text: [Themes: Humor, Travel, Historical, volcano, silly, humor, Victorian]
  
  > look around
  I am in the basket of the balloon, high, though not high enough
  above the foothills of the Andes. We are now practically on top of the volcano. It is as though we are entering the mouth of hell itself! Attached to the ropes that hold the balloon aloft is a brass altimeter, the one and only piece of aeronautical equipment that has not been sacrificed.
  I see a cricket ball here.
  Hubert Booby stands in the corner of the basket, peering into
  space.
  A St. Bernard dog is sitting placidly before me, wagging its tail.
  
  > examine it
  A well-worn cricket ball that has obviously seen quite a lot of use.
  I was pretty good bowler in my day...
  
  > throw ball at the dog
  Which ball do you mean, the ball of yarn, or the cricket ball?
  
  > Cricket
  I miss.
  
  > take it
  Taken. "That doesn't belong to you!" exclaims Hubert.
  
  > Bowl
  What do you want to throw?
  
  > Bowl cricket ball
  I throw the cricket ball (overarm, naturally) over the side of the basket, giving it plenty of topspin. It whistles off into the clouds, closely followed by the St. Bernard, which, like any dog, cannot resist chasing a thrown ball. Through a gap in the clouds I see the hapless hound land safely in a snow-drift. At least he will be able to dig himself out.
  
  Unburdening the balloon of this large, heavy object causes a sudden and immediate gain in altitude of one thousand feet.
  
  > throw the mallet
  I fling the mallet over the side of the basket. "You lunatic!" yells Hubert, stamping his feet in distraction. 'That was an extremely useful mallet - I used it every day at breakfast to crack open my boiled eggs!"
  
  The balance between the weight of the balloon and the lift provided by the gas is so delicate that jettisoning even a very light object causes an immediate vertical displacement. In this instance, the balloon gains around five hundred feet in altitude.
  
  "THAT DOES IT!" shrieks Hubert, shaking his tiny fists at me in exasperation. "That's the last straw. You've really done it this time. I'm going to tell my Aunt Gertie on you!"
  
  "Oh, and I suppose you have your Aunt Gertie secreted away in that incredible overcoat of yours as well..." I say, mockingly.
  
  "Yes," says Hubert, "as a matter of fact I have. You didn't think I'd leave her at home all on her own, do you?" After much squirming and wriggling, a tiny little old lady emerges from the overcoat.
  
  "What is it, Hubert dear?" she asks...
  
  > look at Aunt
  She is a fearsome looking old lady with her hair tied back in a bun and a clean white apron on. She leans on a rather lethal looking cane and carries a bottle of what looks worryingly like castor oil.
  
  > take the cane
  "Leave me helpless, would you," crows Aunt Gertie as I go to grab her cane, before hitting me over the head with it. Helpless indeed!
  
  > ask Gertie about Booby
  "Hubert's such a good boy. He always washes behind his ears." says Aunt Gertie, smiling at her nephew. "I don't suppose you wash behind your ears, do you?" She subjects my ears to close scrutiny. "No, I didn't think so."
  
  > ask Gertie about Gertie
  "For the land's sakes!" cries Aunt Gertie in exasperation.
  
  > Inventory
  I have a string of handkerchiefs, a sewing kit, a hatchet, a cigarette lighter, a needle, a ball of yarn, and a pair of scissors.
  Time is running out! The volcano is so close now that its deafening roar drowns out every sound, and the balloon is bathed in its eerie orange glow!
  
  > give the handkerchiefs to Gertie
  I would rather not give the old woman the string of handkerchiefs.
  She is rather less of a pushover than her nephew. Whilst she is armed with that stick, I do not fancy my chances of getting them back again.
  
  > give the parachute to Gertie
  "You're not getting me up in one of those things!" crows Aunt Gertie. Perhaps a less direct approach would be more successful...
  
  > hit Gertie with the parachute
  There are surely more fruitful ways of spending my time than in attacking Aunt Gertie with a parachute.
  
  > wear the parachute
  What! And abandon my balloon? Over my dead body! Besides, the parachute has no harness - to wear it one would need to tie it to something one was already wearing.
  
  > tie the parachute to Gertie
  I wait 'til her back is turned, and swiftly tie the parachute to her apron strings!
  
  > cut the balloon with the scissors
  I am rapidly losing consciousness. Everything is a blur...
  
  My head is spinning like a top...
  
  > examine the balloon
  I am rapidly losing consciousness. Everything is a blur...
  My head is spinning like a top...
  We are now so close to the volcano that its torrid heat can be felt upon our faces. It is a little like sticking one's head in a baker's oven. "Turn this infernal contraption around at once!" shouts Hubert above the roar of the lava flows, "the heat always brings me out in a rash!"
  We have very little time - we need to gain more altitude to comfortably clear
  
  the volcano!
  
  I am rapidly losing consciousness. Everything is a blur...
  My head is spinning like a top...
  
  Six miles above the earth, and still rising rapidly, I suddenly lose consciousness. It is as though I had simply fallen asleep, but this time I do not wake up...
  
  ...If only I had been able to reach the gas valve rope in time!
  
  > climb the rope
  I am rapidly losing consciousness. Everything is a blur...
  Which rope do you mean, the anchor rope, the ropes, or the gas-valve rope?
  
  > climb the ropes
  I am rapidly losing consciousness. Everything is a blur...
  My head is spinning like a top...
  
  Six miles above the earth, and still rising rapidly, I suddenly lose consciousness. It is as though I had simply fallen asleep, but this time I do not wake up...
  
  ...If only I had been able to reach the gas valve rope in time!
  
  > pulthe gas-valve rope
  The last thing I remember before passing out is falling upon the gas valve rope and pulling down on it with all the strength remaining to me...
  Excerpt from "To Hell in a Hamper, Travels by Balloon with a Buffoon" by Prof. P. Pettibone, Oxford University Press, 1895.
  "...when my senses returned to me the volcano was far behind me. The balloon had come to rest on the slopes of the lower Andes. There I was found, frostbitten and in a state of nervous exhaustion, by a party of llama herdsmen. I had reached 37,000 feet, an altitude heretofore unattained by any balloonist in history, and had lived to tell the tale.
  
  Without the means to replace my supply of hydrogen further travel by balloon was impossible. When I had recovered fully I travelled to Quito by pack horse, and from there arranged passage to England by land and sea. The journey was uneventful, but my trials were not yet over, for soon after my arrival I was called to account for the various transgressions comitted by my travelling companion during our adventures. There was the small matter of a Rembrandt painting stolen from the Louvre the previous year (secreted, no doubt beneath that voluminous overcoat), and the matter of the desecration of an Egyptian tomb, as well as a dozen other infractions of a lesser nature. Fortunately I was able to absolve myself of blame for these crimes, but it was a great shame that Hubert was not around to be held accountable for his actions.
  
  The Rembrandt, fortunately, was not one of his better pieces, owing to a lapse of judgement on the part of the master in his choice of subject matter. It is generally agreed that the great artist's reputation has benefitted, rather than suffered for the loss of "Three Kittens in a Chamber Pot."
  
  The mummy was a different matter however. It turned out to have been the corpse of Imhotep, architect of the Great Pyramid. The Egyptian government were most upset to learn that the builder of their most exalted monument was last seen tumbling towards a hasty reburial on the frozen slopes of the Andes. As I understand it, negotiations between the British, Egyptian and Ecuadorian governments are still ongoing with regard to the mummy's recovery and safe return to its tomb.
  
  As for Hubert and his disagreeable Aunt Gertie, I never saw them again. However, a party of Germans trekking in the foothills of the Andes five years later reported seeing a large fat man and an old woman who lived together in a stone hut with a Saint Bernard dog. According to the Germans, the pair spoke fluent English, but what they said made little sense. She kept muttering something about "clean underwear" and he did nothing all day but lament the loss of a cuckoo clock.
  I myself retired from ballooning in 1890, having travelled in nearly every country in the world. I am now dedicated to submarine exploration, in which science I am swiftly becoming the world's foremost authority."
  
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