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Description
Clay shuffled uncertainly.

He could use the prize money, that was for sure, but he didn't know about competing against professional lumberjacks.

Still; he had the ax Mr. Bunyan had given him. Shawn Bunyan and he had drunkenly named thier axes after one too many beers down at the Underground and now Clay toted an axe named Oakdeath.

It could have been worse; Shawn's axe was named 'Treeslayer'.

The official yelled for the contestants to line up. Clay obediantly lined himself up next to his appointed tree, marked with a brown flag.

He and Shawn had felled trees together in the brief few weeks Clay had spent at the Bunyan homestead. It would be kind of lonely - not to mention slower - doing it without him. True, they had both used dulled axes to build up thier muscles and Oakdeath was sharpened to a razor's edge, but . . . .

The judge blew the whistle sharply.

Most of the contestants were in motion instantly, swinging wildly at the trees, chopping out chocks of wood inches at a time.

Crap; he was already late.

Clay planted his feet, swung his axe--

-- and narrowly avoided faceplanting as Oakdeath passed through the pine tree with all the resistance of a sharp knife passing through a tomato.

Clay actually had to spin to avoid falling.

A few of the spectators laughed, thinking he had missed the tree entirely, but the sounds of amusement cut off sharply as the brown-flagged tree shook, wobbled, and then crashed to the ground.

The judge stared at the felled tree, stared at Clay, then blew his whistle.

Crap. He had just felled a tree with a single blow in front of these normal lumberjacks, a crowd of spectators, and, if the camera was any indication, a limited TV audience.

What had Mr. Bunyan said about christening a new American Folk hero?

"Um . . ." Clay turned to the flabbergasted competitors and judge, feeling a blush creep across his cheeks. "Guess I don't know my own strength."

*******

I am seriously uncertain about this background, but I don't have time to come up with a better one.

Description
Clay shuffled uncertainly.

He could use the prize money, that was for sure, but he didn't know about competing against professional lumberjacks.

Still; he had the ax Mr. Bunyan had given him. Shawn Bunyan and he had drunkenly named thier axes after one too many beers down at the Underground and now Clay toted an axe named Oakdeath.

It could have been worse; Shawn's axe was named 'Treeslayer'.

The official yelled for the contestants to line up. Clay obediantly lined himself up next to his appointed tree, marked with a brown flag.

He and Shawn had felled trees together in the brief few weeks Clay had spent at the Bunyan homestead. It would be kind of lonely - not to mention slower - doing it without him. True, they had both used dulled axes to build up thier muscles and Oakdeath was sharpened to a razor's edge, but . . . .

The judge blew the whistle sharply.

Most of the contestants were in motion instantly, swinging wildly at the trees, chopping out chocks of wood inches at a time.

Crap; he was already late.

Clay planted his feet, swung his axe--

-- and narrowly avoided faceplanting as Oakdeath passed through the pine tree with all the resistance of a sharp knife passing through a tomato.

Clay actually had to spin to avoid falling.

A few of the spectators laughed, thinking he had missed the tree entirely, but the sounds of amusement cut off sharply as the brown-flagged tree shook, wobbled, and then crashed to the ground.

The judge stared at the felled tree, stared at Clay, then blew his whistle.

Crap. He had just felled a tree with a single blow in front of these normal lumberjacks, a crowd of spectators, and, if the camera was any indication, a limited TV audience.

What had Mr. Bunyan said about christening a new American Folk hero?

"Um . . ." Clay turned to the flabbergasted competitors and judge, feeling a blush creep across his cheeks. "Guess I don't know my own strength."

*******

I am seriously uncertain about this background, but I don't have time to come up with a better one.