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Howitzer

It looks like a squiggly line with two triangles sitting underneath it.

“Yeah,” says Goshen, “all right! Edible shrubs here!”

Howitzer eyes him. “You get ‘edible shrubs’ from that?”

“There’s hobo signs for everything, man.” Goshen straightens from the fencepost.

“I think you’re screwing with me,” says Howitzer slowly. “What’s it really say? ‘Cops everywhere, leave new guy as bait?'”

“You shut up, man,” Goshen hisses.

“You shut up!”

“Applesauce babies! Blackamoor!” yelps Slebber, who runs his ethanol through used coffee filters.

“I said you best stop up that sass!” roars Goshen, and swings.

Later, the shrubs turn out pretty tasty.

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