He should have let someone know that he was afraid of heights.
"Well, this is awkward," he muttered, "I can't get down." He considered calling out for help, but was concerned the smallest movement would throw him off his precarious perch, his purchase being slim at best. He felt like Prometheus, all splayed out, waiting for the vulture to arrive. "Next time," he promised sardonically to no one, "I'll employ some forethought."
Who's that tap-tapping upon my roof? Go away little mouse. The corn is gone. Not even the chaff remains. They saw to that. Only smoke and ash survive to tell the tale of what once was.