>>416109A short poem for you:
The axeman and the batonist were in the Alaskan wild. They both were
hardcore survivalist, not planning to die.
The axeman said to the batonist, "retards carry that knife."
"Whatever", replied the batonist, "I'll do as I like."
They walked and walked, hundreds of miles, deep into the woods.
The equipment, was minimal, they did not have much food.
Then it all, turned worse at once, the rain began to fall.
They had to make a shelter fast, too bad the axe was dull.
They started making a shelter fast, it was no fun at all.
The axe was dull, and work was slow, like working with a maul.
Suddenly the axe head, was all over the place.
One could see the despair, in axeman's face.
OMG we lost our axe. Now we're gonna die.
Our clotches are wet and it is cold, we really need a fire.
We still have, a batoning knife, we don't need and axe.
So get yourself together now, please sit down, and relax.
The batonist, worked alone, he had a knife and a baton.
"Damn I wish my baton handle, was also made of Kraton."
It was tough, they made it back, but it was no piece of cake.
No longer, the batonist, was considered as a fake.
The axeman said, "I was wrong, and have to say, you were right."
The batonist, had a present for him, a Bark River knife.
