There was this one time, when I was a kid. My brother and I.... let's just say his name was DAVE. We went christopher walken out in the woods behind our house. Now this was after there were a few forest fires, brought on by I guess sparks from the train tracks igniting the dry pine needles and shit. Nah, it was because the local stoners were lighting up and ignoring Smokey Bear's advise, that only stoners create forest fires.

So there was a fire. The woods burned a bit and it was awesome.

My bro and I went walking out there after the smoke and such was no more, and found an old shack. Like... a dirty old scary shack in the woods. It had a door, and two makeshift beds, and a shit ton of Penthouse Magazines!

We claimed the Penthouses as our own then tore the shack asunder, laughing our asses off all the ways.

Then we found an old boat. We pushed the old boat onto the train tracks and that was a shit storm that followed, believe-you-me.

We found a port-a-potty not far after, and flipped that shit. Literaly... Shit was flipped. It was our finest hours.

There's no moral to this story... just thought I'd get that shit off my chest.

There's no moral to this story.