about knowing when it's a story, or not

Early yesterday morning I went out jogging, alone except for a lot of hot deer and noisy crickets. Suddenly I rounded a bend and caught sight of six large men standing in a circle, looking down at something. I've seen enough episodes of The Sopranos to know that nothing good ever comes of interrupting large men who think they're by themselves. I kept on going, thinking to myself that if I heard someone running behind me, I'd faint and that would be the end of that.

Anyway, nothing happened...