Mogey and Smush sat around the campfire with their pals Gurns Macleod and Skunkins Brent. Gurns and Skunkins were excellent camping buddies, because they each had their own set of unique skills. Gurns was a talented tent putter-upper, fire kindler, and ghost story teller. Skunkins kept all the undesirable wildlife at bay with his repulsive stench.
"Anyone got a knife handy?" Smush inquired.
Mogey and Gurns immediately proffered blades: Mogey, an 8-inch cleaver; Gurns, a fillet knife he'd brought along to clean tomorrow's catch of rainbow trout.
"I'm looking to butter my s'more," Smush expanded. "Do you have anything a little more..."
"This should do the trick," Skunkins replied, pulling a hawkbill machete from his belt.
"Fanks," Smush replied, holding his nose as he accepted Skunkins' enormous knife. He waved it about a bit to air it out, then dipped it into their brick of butter and gave his s'more a liberal slather. "Perfect," Smush declared as he took a satisfied bite.
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