The skin grafts came from the bears single swipe at my unshaven mug. My cherished 1890 Sheffield was lodged in my ribcage by my own uncontrollable flinching at the site of the large black bear. I had just finished stroping the blade for about 60 round trips, so needless to say it could glide through anything. I do believe this is what saved me, because once the Sheffield was nice and lodged between my ribs I doubled over in pain and dropped my frothy mug. The bear enthusiastically went for the sweet froth instead of my neck. He must have just been looking for something sweet, because after he lapped up the Colonel's Amber lather, he waddled off into the woods.
So add this to the list of don'ts:

Don't:
  • shave naked
  • shave while talking to the wife and kids
  • shave in a wildlife nature preserve