Today is my best male friends birthday. We haven't spoken in a while because of a silly falling out, well, it's really his wife that is pissed at me and not him, but I understand these things and he's still my best pal. I really DIDN'T think, this I will confess, but a bunch of us were celebrating on our way to a camp site and we did after all stop at Terry's folks house as a matter of courtesy, so what happened wasn't intentional at all. I was driving so I hadn't had a drop of alcohol, but the other guys were 3 sheets to the wind and still going at it when old man Slaughter (related to the famous Texas John Slaughter) asked me to put down an old horse that he didn't have the heart to put out of it's misery. I agreed and went back to the van to get my .06, and the guys were staring at me with that, 'oh shit, what's he up to now' look on their faces, and yes, I'll admit to play acting like I was mad about something. So I slammed home a round and stomped on up to the barn where the horse was, and the guys, yeah, they sort of followed but at a distance, okay. I wandered a bit because this was one huge ass old barn but found the horse all by his lonesome, then I shot him dead. The guys were all white-faced and sobering up really quick, and Frank finally got the nerve to ask me what was up so I told him that old man Slaughter said we couldn't use his piece of property to camp on, and fuck him because we drove all this way, so I shot his best fucking horse. I went back to the van, the guys trailing behind, tossed the .06 back inside and told them I'd be right back because I wanted to give that old bastard one last piece of my mind. So I walked back to the house and told Mr. Slaughter that I'd done the deed, and he was thanking me when all of a sudden a volley of shots rang out. I double-timed it back to the old barn and they had revved up all three vehicles and were shouting for me to get in, get in.
Seems the boys were a little more drunk than I had figured, and they were pissed too, so they went into the barn and shot all the rest of the horses as well.
Doc forgave me, but Terry never did.
Anyway, Happy Birthday, pal.
2 comments:
Holy cow! Tell me that's a shaggy dog story. I was with you all the way up to the horsey genocide.
Pat, me lad, it happened as closely to that as I can recall. Except of course for the parts I made up.
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