What's brown and sticky?

[muckefuck]

On the way to work this morning, I picked up a stick. There was a fallen tree branch lying in a shrub and I lifted it out without any thought as to what I was going to do with it and began snapping twigs off. I threw them into the next dumpster I passed. Up the street, a dog was barking at a woman walking by and I reflected that, if it came near me, I could hold out the stick so it would bite that instead of me. It did and I tried this, but the owner restrained it and gave me a sour look. Or did I imagine it? Swinging the stick back and forth reminded me of the last dream I had before I awoke, one in which I was fighting off men with found lumber chop-socky style. My favourite bit was when someone came at me with a long pair of boards and I caught them with the corner of the metal bar in my hand flipped them clear to the other side of the room. I held onto the stick all the way to the shuttle stop, where I ran into my coworker. He said, "You have a stick." "It's not so big," I told him. "And you don't speak softly," he retorted. So I hit him with it.

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[richardthinks.livejournal.com]

But did you go on to demonstrate your manhood on the carcasses of elephants and bull moose?