Hunting is hard work

I made a trip down to Texas to go hunting this weekend. I'm not going to pretend to know how the mind of a deer operates, but I think that if a hunter is sitting behind a tree a few hundred yards away from a highway, the deer is not going to notice you. With muffler-less vehicles speeding by, a buffoon with a beer chest should have a chance to see some deer. Do I have proof? Well, on Saturday, four of us decided to go hunting together. I immediately became bored and decided it was time to step up the drinking. I drank a beer.

Not satisfied with just sipping a Miller Lite, I devised a plan. "Wanna shotgun a beer?" I whispered. "Fuck it." Charlie answered.

It should be noted that, less than 30 minutes after this lightning round of drinking, we saw a very large deer. A skilled hunter was in direct competition with a deer's ability to not be hit by a bullet. The majestic animal stood completely still as the practiced eye of The Hunter leveled his rifle's crosshairs well away from what could have been a successfully fired round. I drank a beer. The Hunter did not take the initial shot but instead deftly stumbled his way through a pile of empty beer cans and rested his field-tested rifle on a tree limb. The rest of his group snickered in amusement. The deer, being a deer and all, did not pay attention to the four morons giggling behind the tree. The rifled sounded. The Hunter celebrated. Yelling through a whisper he cried, "I got him!" The others watching congratulated The Hunter on once again verifying his manly ability to provide. I drank a beer.

The group remained poorly hidden behind the tree, reflecting on the size of the animal. We discussed which direction he went after being hit by the deadly bullet. The Hunter, hands shaking with adrenaline, stated, "We'll wait 20 more minutes and then track him down." I drank a beer.

With plenty of daylight left, we began what we anticipated would be a short search for a monstrous animal. The initial check of the area the buck originally stood did not show any obvious signs of a wounded animal. I drank a beer. We searched. "Hey, has anyone seen 'Inception' yet?" I asked. The Hunter did not respond. His superior tracking skills were driving his senses to superhuman levels. The Hunter's experience has taught him the skills necessary to find a camouflaged animal. I drank a beer.

After an arduous search, we found something for which we did not know we were looking. "Hey guys," a member of The Hunter's group called. "I think I found something." Winding our way through the brambles and thick brush, the group converged at the site of the discovery. We had certainly found something. I drank a beer.

The discovery proved that The Hunter's bullet had deceived him and not done what he had asked. Instead, the deadly projectile ripped right through a perfectly healthy tree. Someone stated the obvious: "You missed." The Hunter received the news with a heavy heart and admitted that he would take full responsibility for the failure. Then he cleverly blamed the wind, the tree, a jet that flew overhead, and Obama.

The Hunter's group returned to the lengthening shadow of the cooler and drank a beer.