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A cold breeze winds through the trees and gently teases you awake. Or maybe it was the sharp jab of a pinecone embedding itself into your left kidney but hey-- they's not nearly as poetic. And we all know that poetry holds such valued relevance to this situation. Dr. Suess' ghost, at this very moment, may indeed be just behind that tree-- NO THAT ONE RIGHT THERE-- taking delicate notes in flowing stanzas. Or you could be laying butt-naked on the floor of a dark forest with a not-so balmy breeze chilling your balls off and pinecones digging into vital organs.
Unfortunately for you, it's probably the latter.
Digging out the horrid pinecone... [READ MORE]