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All right, and I can make some s'mores
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out of horse meat and s'more horse meat.
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Build a fire? Horse s'mores? Screw this.
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The river runs east. I head west.
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Tiny Nuggins scampers into the jungle.
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Hey, pal, I didn't scamper in the jungles of Nicaragua,
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and I'm not gonna do it now.
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Wait, come back! I follow him.
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- Me too. - Tiny Nuggins,
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if we rest, we'll regain our strength.
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And lose my family.
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I'll imaginary sleep when I'm imaginary dead.