A deer was killed today.
And I wonder, do I get any of the meat? The circumstances under which the deer lost her life make my chances uncertain.
I wish I could be there to help gut it.
Last Thanksgiving (I think, so don't get all uppity if that's not deer season), my dad went hunting. I couldn't go because I'm a Mass-hole and it's too freaking expensive for me to shoot a gun at animals in Maine. I promised my dad that if he brought one back, I would clean it. This was after my weeks of cat-cutting I did in college, and I thought it would be pretty radical if I knew how to cut up a deer all by myself. My brother was impressed with my gusto, but my mom was so doubtful she said she would give me fifty bucks (ha! dollars) if I actually did it.
Alas, he shot no deer, and I'm as unskilled in the art of gutting and butchering a deer now as I was then.
But wait! Thanksgiving is just around the corner!