I read an interesting online article, recently. It was about a hunter that was gorged to death by a deer he was stalking. Apparently, the sportsman had shot at the deer with a bow and arrow and only wounded it. The next morning our victim decided to get up before the sun and finish the kill. As he approached the lacerated deer, it shot up and found a messy way to injected antlers of an angry animal into the soft, tender neck of a red blooded American.

I found the news quite pleasing. Every hippy, liberal, progressive cell in my body danced to the beat of the news of this poor man’s death.

I smiled as I imagined the sweet taste of revenge that flowed from his neck. After a cold, brutal night of unstopping bleeding and hurting the deer was again face to face with the predator that disfigured it. Her heart racing as fight conquers flight, giving her the courage to attack. The scene in my head produced sweeter revenge than you’ll find in any Rocky movie.

Bravo, deer. Good for you. I hope every day after that only got better and better. I hope you live long enough to tell the story of how you defeated the horrible hunter and his horrible weapon. Cheers to you, friend.

Now, please excuse me. My microwave just beeped. My beef burrito is ready.

A 40 year old wanna be writer taking a creative writing class at the local community college.