The trail boozers had recently passed through.
An empty bottle of Stoopid was stuck in a stump.
A cast-off bottle like that would never drown a shrew, I thought, so maybe they're not really that stoopid.
I changed my mind a few steps later.
A bottle of Arrogant Bastard was lying on the side of the trail.
Their choice of beverages seemed to say it all.
