The old huntress emerged from her cave before the golden orb kissed the horizon. It had been thirteen days since she last left the cave to visit the therapeutic warm water of the rehab pool, now closed. Her journey was more pressing for the tribe confined to the cave. Only pausing to wash her face and teeth and pass a comb through her darkening roots, she hoped other hunters would not notice her disheveled state.

Her armaments were dull. The great satchel designed to carry concealed weapons was now holding the Munchkin governor's mandated recyclable bags, freshly sanitized, of course. The trails were nearly empty. Younger hunters would emerge later. This was the time set aside for the older hunters. Due to the excess travel necessary to traverse long paths winding through the WM reserve, the huntress chose the smaller reserve. Just as in weeks past, the large game was absent. Looking for secondary game, a fellow hunter saw her distress and whispered, "Jerry's." Thanking the other profusely, the huntress continued her search for secondary sustenance in the smaller reserve. Nesting sites for beans, rice, flour, and tortillas were empty. Another hunter passed proudly displaying his catch, eggs. Hurrying, as fast as her arthritic joints would allow, the huntress found the bounty. But the main game remained elusive. The only recourse was the travel the long path well beyond her cave to the tiny reserve called Jerry's .

While the secondary sustenance nests stood empty as they had at the first reserve, in the far corner stood, disguised in brown camouflage, was the prize, the purpose for her early travels. Fearing limited availability, the huntress tore back the brown wrapping and quickly took two. Her heart beat for fear she would be stopped. She did not consider herself a hoarder, just desperate.

Proudly the huntress returned to the Cave Bear clan and announced, "I found toilet paper."