One day, as Mr. Hoffman was walking in a shadier part of town, (Who knows what he was doing there?)there was a loud bang, followed by a louder crash. Mr. Hoffman spun around. There were six bears surroundinghim. But these were no ordinary bears... They were bipedal, for one thing. A human thumb was sewn to theirmassive paws. And, as you may know, with great thumbs come great weaponry. The first bear, obviously theleader, was hefting a sledgehammer. The second and third bears brandished oak baseball bats. The fourthwielded a large wrench, and the fifth and sixth, for some reason, clutched small bears, which had slimy, purpletentacles protruding from their thick, brown fur. On each tentacle was a smaller, tentacled bear, and so on, 42more times. The bears flicked around, violently.The bear leader spoke in his gravelly, heavily-accented voice.“Ey, you'se. Yeah, you with the face. You'se no' 'appen to 'ave a coffee do yeh? 'Course yeh do. I smell't on yeh!Give it 'ere, and nobody gets hurt. Yeh know 'ow 'at'll end up, don't yeh?” To this, Mr. Hoffman's face contortedin berserker rage. He shouted in a booming voice: “NOBODY TAKES MY COFFEE!” Mr. Hoffman suddenlywas holding a golf club of scalding, steaming coffee. He yelled a battle-cry: “I'm Squidward, I'm Squidward, I'mSquidward, Squidward, Squidward!”. He swung the golf club around with expert precision. As the bears weretoo busy laughing to react, he struck each one with crushing blows in various places. The bears fell to theground, unconscious. Except for one. The leader bear had recovered from laughing now. “Looks like it's just youand me, boss.” Just as suddenly as it had formed, the golf club dissipated in a puff of reality. Mr. Hoffmanfrantically searched for a weapon when the leader struck. And struck again. In a flash of red, Mr. Hoffman wasseeping into unconsciousness. But then a voice rang out, which sounded like the rustling of leaves in the wind.“Wait... It is not yet your time, Mr. Hoffman.” The final bear was flung aside, slamming into a nearby gas stationpump before bursting into flames for some reason. Then there was a horrendous wail of agony and anguish asthe bear leader was caught in a large, gas-fueled explosion. Shrapnel flew everywhere. After what seemed like aneternity, Mr. Hoffman recovered. “Who... who... who are you?”“I am Treeman. You will understand in time... But alas, you are injured. We must tend to that immediately.” Thehorrible abomination beheld by Mr. Hoffman was a disgusting, twisted mistake of nature. It seemed to be a crossbetween a man and a tree. It's appendages were almost inhuman. The skin consisted of a sick, lumpy, rough, andwood-like substance. And then it carved a strip of this substance from one of it's limbs. The strip was a coppery-pinkish-colour, stained with tobacco. But the stench was much, much more terrible. It smelled of wood, tobacco,and the decay of human flesh. It was definitely not a nice thing to smell, to be sure. “We need anotheringredient.” Treeman produced an eyeball from a fold in his flesh, popping it into his mouth, and chewed it to apulp. He spit the pulp into a pot. He added the strip of flesh into the pot, as well. The pot screamed and hissed asif in protest. His sense of smell left him, as if protecting him from the most horrible stench known to mankind.After several minutes, Treeman broke the silence. “It is ready. You must drink it all or it will not work.” Mr.Hoffman's sense of smell returned. The drink smelled as if it came from a hole of rotted corpses. Mr. Hoffman.The taste of the beverage is too horrible to mention. After he drank the entire concoction, it went into effect. Mr.Hoffman's blood felt as if it was boiling, his bones tore together, and tissure rippled and was stretched over tocover the wounds. Mr. Hoffman was healed. He finally had a chance to look at his surroundings. The room hewas in was dark, dusty, and dingy. It smelled of moist earth.“Now that you're better, we can be friends forever, and ever and ever.” Treeman laughs a laugh that made Mr.Hoffman uncomfortable. “No. I have to teach 7C... I have to get my coffee!” Mr. Hoffman leaped to his feet,sprinting to the door. Treeman whipped out a dart gun, shooting Mr. Hoffman in the back of the leg. It instantlywent into effect. And everything went blank.