Minding your own business is a hazardous occupation. Think of all the tales of woe that begin with "There I was, minding my own business, when suddenly..."
Anyway, one evening I was walking down the street minding my own business, when suddenly, a bear popped out of a manhole. And it growled at me, arrrrrr. And I said, "Now hang on, mister bear. You're not supposed to use the man hole. You're supposed to use the bear hole!" And I pointed to a much larger hole a little ways up the street.
And the bear growled, "Excuse me? Are you endorsing segregation?"
Well in regards to getting into an argument with a bear: don't. I ran and jumped down what I thought was the manhole -- only to turn my flashlight on and discover, by all the sets of sharp teeth grinning at me, that it was, in fact, the bear hole.
So...I had to go pick up a new arm and leg at the cemetery, and kind of hobble my way home before I could get some proper muscle back on them, and that was a whole thing because I had to let my lover-slash-nemesis The Witch bite me a few times before she would brew me a potion.
That's not why I'm missing a finger, by the way, that was the result of our dalliance the other night and she hasn't got around to proper aftercare yet. It's why I'm missing a few toes. Makes walking akward, let me tell you! The other day I was walking down the street, minding my own business, but people were laughing at me because I was walking funny, and then suddenly a familiar witch popped out of a manhole and called down a few thunderclouds to scare them off. And I was like "Shouldn't you be using the witch hole?" And she was like "Let me have this and I'll show you a witch hole."
I thought that meant we were gong home to have some fun but she dragged me to the woods and showed me an actual witch-shaped hole. And I was like "Well, fuck me running!" And the witch was like "Is that a request?"
I won't describe that attempt, suffice to say it doesn't work very well, especially when you wind up falling down a witch hole and you wind up with green skin and an outfit you may not actually appreciate. So the moral of the story is, don't just mind your business, mind your holes.