You, out in the middle of the woods, have no idea where you are. You look up, and you notice it’s getting a bit dark. After another hour of walking, you can see a shack. Regardless, it’ll be where you sleep for the night. You knock on the door, and suddenly, the door opens and there’s a gun aimed at you.

“This is private land, pardner.”

A thick southern accent threats.

“So, I suggest ya leave ‘fore I decide t’ do what I usually do t’ trespassers.”

He warned, glaring at you.