I was walking alone through the woods. I’d already covered about a mile when the trail led me to a small footbridge, which spanned a narrow stream. Blocking the entrance to the bridge was a wendigo, standing maybe, 10-, 11-feet tall, not including the sizable buck’s antlers that sat atop its head. Its face looked vaguely human, save for the wolf snout where the nose should’ve been. And it was wearing an Antonio Brown jersey.
The wendigo grinned, briefly exposing its fangs, which were caked with blood. “The Steelers will disappoint you this season,” it said.