Thursday, December 22, 2016

A White-Eyed Panic

I totally understand. My brother, Satan (Paul), had been deluged with bucks all weekend. Trent and I had already taken big bucks and Paul was in a fever to get his. A deer would jump out. Too small, Another one would run by, How many horns did that SOB have? Back and forth for too days until Paul was completely white-eyed and feverish. He was talking to himself and bitching that the big ones were all dead. Trent and I laughed and laughed and laughed. Needless to say we did not rub salt in his wounds. HAHAHAHAHAHAHA. Finally, he could take it no more. A buck ran out, a 6 point, another one strolled by, too small. He had the safety off, sweating in the sub zero temperature. A deer ran by, Wait, He saw 5 points on one side. BOOM, BOOM!!! The deer went down.
Being the nice brother I am, I went to help him drag it out. I picked it up, slung it over my shoulder and carried it to the 4 wheeler, It was a little on the small side.
Good News, the people at Bass Pro said it was a world record as the smallest buck they had ever been asked to score. It only missed Boone and Crockett by 100 points.

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