Smokey the Bear headsinto the autumn woodswith a red can of gasolineand a box of wooden matches.His ranger's hat is cockedat a disturbing angle.His brown fur gleamsunder the high sunas his paws, the sizeof catcher's mitts,crackle into the distance.He is sick of dispensingwarnings to the careless,the half-wit camper,the dumbbell hiker.He is going to show themhow a professional does it.
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