"Beware the Pungent Snack"

As they sat in the Shaggin' Wagon, Harry and Lloyd continued to munch on the seven-year-old beef jerky, their laughter and jokes filling the air. They started to get creative, trying to outdo each other with ridiculous claims about the jerky's aroma. "I think it smells like Bigfoot's breath," Harry said, holding his nose. Lloyd chuckled. "No way, it smells like Sasquatch's gym socks!" Harry grinned. "No, no, it's definitely Bigfoot's breath. I can smell the hairiness." Lloyd playfully rolled his eyes. "You're just not sophisticated enough to appreciate the nuances of Sasquatch's scent." As they continued to banter back and forth, Harry started to feel a sudden, sharp pain in his throat. He tried to swallow, but it felt like the jerky had lodged itself in his airway. "Ah, Lloyd...I think I'm having a little trouble here," Harry said, his voice strained. Lloyd looked at him with concern. "What's wrong, man?" Harry tried to speak, but all that came out was a faint croak. He gestured to his throat, and Lloyd's eyes widened in alarm. "Harry, are you okay?" Lloyd asked, as Harry started to panic. Harry nodded, still trying to swallow. He stumbled out of the Shaggin' Wagon, staggering towards the nearby woods. Lloyd watched him go, feeling a sudden wave of tiredness wash over him. He yawned, his eyes drooping. "What's going on?" Lloyd muttered to himself, his voice slurred. As he looked down at the remaining beef jerky in his hand, he felt a creeping sense of dread. Had they made a terrible mistake eating that old snack? Harry stumbled back into view, his face pale and sweaty. "Lloyd...I think I need to find a bathroom," he said, his voice weak. Lloyd tried to respond, but his words came out in a slow, slurred mumble. He felt himself slumping forward, his head nodding towards the dashboard. The last thing he saw was Harry's worried face before everything went dark. As the darkness closed in, Lloyd could have sworn he heard Harry's faint whisper: "I think it was the jerky..."