Got Mah Deer

Got mah deer. End of Unconventional Season. Exploded out of the blind. Leaves, sticks and lumber flyin’. Sprinted 150 yards straight at Mr. Bucky. He’s stunned, standin’ still, twitching his wide-open eyes around like, “Whu?…What’d I do?” Tackled him. Straddled his neck. Twisted his head around three, four times. Gutted him bare-handed. Punched my straight-out fingers into his belly and ripped his guts out. Hauled him over my shoulder. Hiked back to the truck and threw him in. DNR don’t need to know nothin’.

Back home, I flung him out on the yard. Wife and kids gnawed on him like a pack of girly-wolves. I sat in the rockin’ chair chewing on a hind leg in one hand. Picked my teeth with the antlers in the other. When the girls had their fill, I ripped his hide off and hung it out to dry.

Gonna make me some shammy jammies.

Life don’t get much better’n this

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