I Met a Deer Fucker

You remember that game you would play on long car rides when you were a kid? Mark off when you'd see a particular license plate or certain car. Can't remember the name of it for the life of me, but for the last couple weeks I've been making one related to pharmacy. Today I was able to check off one of those items.

I met a deer fucker.

And not just a regular deer fucker, a dead deer fucker.

How do you talk to such a person? Do you ask him if it had a nice rack? Or if he'd ever mount one again?

The better question, how the hell do you keep a straight face while talking to a guy you know porked a dead animal. Twice.

We all have our weird fetishes. But if you're sitting at home on a Saturday night with some Kleenex and your favorite bottle of lotion and this is what you're thinking of:



Well I'm gonna have to say somethin' just ain't right with you.

The one benefit? I can mark of something on the list few others will be able to. Booyah!