an anecdote of questionable meaning

Yesterday I came across a stark warning of imminent death.  I was wandering around on the side of the butte, little red riding hood style with my wolf friend. He led us off trail on the mossy spongy juniper speckled slope.  It was under a medium-sized juniper that I spotted the flat round beacon of intrigue, my first impression of a wide white mushroom. Then I picked it up, flipped it over and read the following  message scrawled in hasty black marker;

Death shall come to whoever finds this frisbee   

We played catch for a minute and left it there.

I feel a little bit guilty.

xo