La soledad es una opresión constante de

La soledad es una opresión constante de noches oscuras y amargos atardeceres. Genera tanto dolor que

Said Che Guevera at the pic nic.

Che knocked another apple from the tree and bent down to pick it up. He was polishing it when a voice boomed, "HEY, give that back!" *Thwonk!* Something hit him hard.

Little did Che know that he had stumbled into the Magic Forest where the trees indeed are ALIVE! Not since the Wizard of Oz had the trees

thrown apples at him. Once they began loading up broken wine bottles, Che became worried. He commanded a legion of lumberjacks to enter the Magic Forest and

saw off Hagrid's beard. This proved a daunting task, especially as the latter had just upended a bowl of mollasses-laced porridge onto his maw along with eggs benedict on crumbcake

the mollasses, an even thicker version of traditional molasses, seeped deep into the unending strands of Hagrid's glorious bread...suddenly my barber blade felt grossly inadequate.

He leaned back for a shave and I hesitated. I stared at the unsharpened blade. "Whatcha waitin fer?" asked Hagrid with joviality. "Uhh" I stammered. My blade descended

into the matted wiry mass of dred becoming hopelessly entangled among myriad other souvenirs in his massive beard, runsible spoons, flagons, swords, wand fragments & a family owls.