Barnaby “The Axeman” Axleton was, to put it mildly, not your average lumberjack. He wasn’t known for his strength, or his beard, or even his surprisingly accurate yodeling. Barnaby was known for being skinny. Shockingly skinny. Like, a whisper of a man made of twigs and nervous energy skinny. This was a problem in the lumberjack community, a place where biceps the size of watermelons were considered Tuesday attire.
One day, Barnaby was boasting to his considerably bulkier colleagues, “I’m entering the annual Lumberjack Olympics! I’m gonna win the log-rolling!”
Big Gus, a man whose shadow could fell trees, chuckled, a sound like boulders tumbling down a mountain. “Skinny Lumberjack? Ha! You’ll be rolling *with* the log, not on it!”
Another lumberjack, a mountain of a man named “Grizzly” Greg, added, “You’ll be more likely to get swept away by a rogue dandelion.”
Barnaby, undeterred, just grinned. “Oh yeah? Just wait and see.”
The day of the Olympics arrived, and Barnaby, clad in his tiny plaid shirt, stepped up to the starting line. He looked like a particularly lanky scarecrow trying to conquer a river. The crowd roared with laughter and anticipation. Then, the whistle blew.
Barnaby hopped onto the log, and to everyone’s astonishment, he didn’t just stay on – he *dominated*. He spun, he twirled, he executed a series of gravity-defying maneuvers that left the other lumberjacks speechless. He even incorporated a little interpretive dance.
He won, of course. And as he accepted the golden axe, he winked at the crowd. “Turns out,” he said, beaming, “being skinny is surprisingly aerodynamic.” The crowd roared with laughter. The secret? Barnaby had secretly been practicing on a giant inflatable log in his bathtub.
