Harry breathed in, then out again, which was something he'd enjoyed doing from an early age. He closed his eyes, covered his face with his hands, and tried to think all this out rationally. This might have been quite a bit easier if he wasn't standing on a six-inch thick ledge on the fourteenth floor of his apartment building.

"Well," he thought, "nothing to be really afraid of." He looked down, and immediately changed his mind. "Alright. I won't be doing that again." He did it again. "Dammit, that's really scary. Okay, no need to panic. A strong urge to panic, but really no need for it. Alright, maybe a little bit." Harry screamed out at the top of his lungs. After a few seconds of that, he regained his composure. "Now, the first thing I must do is figure out exactly how I ended up on this ledge in the first place. Let's see. . . I got up, made myself a piece of toast, ate that, brushed my teeth, forgot to shave, got dressed, climbed out of the window and edged out to the farthest reach of the ledge." Harry blinked. "Well, that wasn't very smart of me, was it? No worries, besides the mind boggling height and the alarming lack of a guard rail. I just have to-"

"HARRY SEMQUEST," a booming voice rattled Harry's frame through a megaphone, causing him to almost lose his balance. He teetered on the edge of the lip for a second, then attempted to grab hold of the brick wall behind him. Failing at this, he wobbled uncontrollably forward again then regained his balance. "Do not jump!" continued the voice.

Harry looked down for half a second, then cringing directed his eyes back upward. "I don't want to jump!" he screamed.

There was a pause, then the policeman's voice came back on the megaphone. "Then what the bloody hell are you doing up there!?"

"I don't have any clue! I suppose I'm just enjoying the view!"

"Well get down you maniac!"

"Easy for you to say!" Harry's feet were rooted to the cement- they had seen what almost happened the last time Harry had moved and they weren't keen on repeating the experience. Harry's brain pleaded with his feet to please just move, but his feet simply refused to listen to reason.

"I'm afraid," the policeman's voice called out again, "That we are at a total loss of what to do here."

"YOU'RE at a loss of what to do!?"

"If you were trying to commit suicide, we could talk you down. But, as a stubborn person who refuses to move, we're really not sure how to handle the situation."

"I'm sorry to have caused you guys such problems!" Harry shouted sarcastically, "Maybe you could nick off for a bit, get a cup of coffee!"

"That's not a bad idea." The officer ducked back into his car (or so Harry presumed, since he refused to look down again) and sped off.

"There. Now that that distraction is gone, I can-"

That's when he heard the phone ring from inside his apartment. This unexpected noise caused him to almost stumble off the edge again, and once his feet were firmly back on the concrete, they sent a message to his brain that said, in effect, "We are most certainly not doing that again. Go to hell."

The phone sounded again, and Harry pressed his body against the wall. A few more rings, and the machine kicked in.

"Hey," said Harry's staticky voice, "I'm not here at the moment, so if you'd please leave a short message then go screw yourself, that'd be great." The beep sounded, and his mother's voice started in.

"Harry, dear, did you know you're on the telly? The channel five news has ongoing footage of you, it's really quite amazing, I'm calling all of my friends. But you could use a shave, you're looking rather shaggy. And would it kill you to run a comb through your hair? Anyway, your Cousin Linda is getting married next month, but I'll tell you about that later, you just focus on this whole ledge thing of yours. Have fun dear."

A click and a beep. Harry breathed a deep sigh. "Look feet, he said/thought firmly, we are going to have to get off this ledge, and I'm afraid that your cooperation is absolutely essential. Now, if you would just please consider scooting yourselves toward my window, I would very much appreciate it."

Reluctantly, Harry's left foot quivered a bit, then lifted itself and planted itself back on the sill a few inches to the side. Not wanting to be left out, the right did the same.

"That's it, don't be afraid, just a few more-"

"Hey Harry!" boomed the policeman's voice again, "How's it going up there?"

"Absolutely peachy! Never been better!"

"That's good."

Closing his eyes, Harry cleared his head and began to very timidly move his feet again.

"That's right," he encouraged them, "you're doing great, almost there, just a couple more steps. We're going to make it, we're going to-"

Two hours later they finished scraping Harry's remains off the street.

"Never seen a pigeon actually land on a guy's head before," said one of the workers of the accident, throwing his shovel in the back of the van.

"You obviously haven't lived here as long as I have. Wanna go get plastered?"

"Do you even have to ask?"