Three legionnaires were walking through the desert under a baking sun. They were fully equipped with enough dehydrated water tablets for days, and food aplenty. On the shimmering horizon mirages came and went and came again: visions of swimming pools attended by lovely maidens, stalls full of ice-cream, sorbets, freshly-whipped smoothies of every conceivable flavor. But no matter what, the legionnaires did not crack; they kept marching solidly on.
Suddenly one of them froze, "Psssst" said he. His companions halted and strained their eyes to where the first legionnaire was pointing. "Le voila", said he, "Regardez, mes amis, isn't that a bacon tree on the horizon?" And sure enough, there it stood, proudly defiant in the middle of the desert, a true bacon tree. Slowly they crept forward towards the mystery object afar off. Inch by inch, centimeter by centimeter, until they were within a stone's throw of the bacon tree.
Ever nearer they crept, and suddenly a shot rang out, dropping one of the legionnaires in his tracks. The other two returned fire, and gave first aid to their wounded companion.
Even as they bandaged him and poured water over his face, they could hear his faint voice: "That was no bacon tree," he gasped, "that was a ham bush."
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