Yesterday I told you about Paul Bunyan’s childhood. (Read about it here if you’ve forgotten.)
Paul Bunyan’s logging camp was so large that a normal man (or ox) had to have a week’s supply of food to walk from one side of the camp to the other.
The table where the lumberjacks ate was so long that the server drove to one end of the table, camped for the night, and drove back in the morning to get a fresh load of food.
Mosquitoes were a problem in the camp. Because they were going to annoy Paul Bunyan’s camp, they had to grow extra (extra) extra-large. Paul decided to bring in extra (extra) extra-large bees to destroy the mosquitoes (this was an extra [extra] extra-dumb idea as anyone named me could have told him). Instead of destroying the ‘skeeters, the bees married them and the mosquito-bees were even worse (duh). Fortunately for Paul and Co., the newly minted insects flew out to annoy a fleet of ships that were bringing sugar to the camp, and they slurped so much sugar they couldn’t fly. As soon as they realized they couldn’t fly, they drowned (probably because they didn’t want face the insect-dentists). Paul saved two of the mosquito-bees and used them to drill holes in maple trees so they could have syrup.
One winter was especially cold in the camp. The snow was so deep that Paul had to dig down to reach the trees. In the evening it got so cold that when the lumberjacks spoke, their words froze in mid-air. Everything they said remained frozen all night and everyone had to wait until the next day to find out what the conversations had been about. In fact, it was so cold that the flames in the lanterns froze. I’m really glad I wasn’t there to “enjoy” an evening that cold.
Now you know.