Once upon a time, my great uncle Jasper had a pet mountain goat. This goat liked to climb onto a shed he had and go from there up the roof of the barn. It would stand at the peak of the barn, which I guess was the closest thing around to a mountain.
One day it was up there and it must have slipped or something, because it fell. It was 30 feet from the peak to the ground, but by some miracle it must have landed just right, because it got right back up unhurt.
Well, it must have thought that that was pretty fun, because the next thing it did was climb right back up there and jump. This time it wasn't so lucky and broke almost every bone in its body, so my uncle Jasper put it out of its misery.