23 November 2005

D’oh, a Deer!

A female deer,
Ray, done bashed it with my truck,
Me, he phoned to ‘splain himself:
“Feh, I’s aiming for the buck!”
So, I called up wheezing Fred,
Lah, we gutted out the doe,
Then, I had to fix my truck
Now Ray wants the bleeding doe! D’oh, d’oh, d’oh….

Well, he isn't getting it, but I'm not surprised that he hit the stupid thing. Darkest
Pennsyltucky has the highest incidence of deer collisions in the States. Apparently, it’s not so much a product of our school system as it is that the place is literally crawling with deer.

And drunks.

The situation is exacerbated by the fact that the mating season is at the same time as hunting season. Imagine how jumpy you’d be if you had three weeks a year to mate, were in a club chatting up some lady, and Elmer Fudd pops a cap in your arse.

Bloody disquieting, it would be. You might not even look both ways before crossing the street in a situation like that.

I know I didn't, and I have the scars to prove it.

And that's the way I likes it.