from my friend John

“me and my cousin went to look for some arrowheads and other indian rocks in a couple places we know by a bluff. We had to hike in a couple hours, and he had this old beagle that he just had to take with him everywhere. Anyway, we packed our stuff in and set up sleeping bags- as the light snow from earlier that day started to melt there were only two places where the water didn’t drip down off that bluff, each just big enough for a sleeping bag. That night it got cold again, enough to need a fire, and all we could find was a sappy old pine knot. We finally got it lit and sat there next to it, black smoke just pouring off that pine knot, and for some reason, the beagle preferred my sleeping bag to my cousin’s.

I showed up at home the next day, blacker than hell from the fire and smelling like a wet dog, and the wife made me wash off in the garage before she’d let me in the house.

Can’t say I blame her.”

I couldn’t make anything up that good.