On the wall over our table at the Black Bear Diner was a painting
of a campfire in a forest. Over the flame was a cast-iron skillet
holding two eggs, sunny-side up, and the only observer was a bear.
"Poor bear," I told Jerry. "If he tries to eat the eggs in the pan he'll burn his paws.
How will he have breakfast?"
Jerry: "Wait till the hunters come back and eat them instead?"
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