Wednesday, March 02, 2005

Kill the Wabbitt Part II

Okay, my first class was let out a little early so I have some time to tell ya'll this story.

Thanks to Seven for reminding me of this story. Years ago, my best friend, Mason, and a few others, including his dad went hunting for West Texas jackrabbits. They're much bigger than other rabbits, which means more meat. His father had just bought a really nice brand new truck with offroad tires. They loaded all of their firearms, ammo, food, and beer (of course).

It was dark when they drove onto the field with the passenger spotlighting. The spotlight searched through the darkness. Eventually, it stopped on a big one. The truck stopped. Instantly, you could hear 9mm handguns, .357 magnums, 12 gauge shotguns, and even an AR-15. It sounded like World War III. Mason's dad was cringing with each blast. He was thinking, "Shit! These damn drunks are going to kill my brand new truck!"

The rabbit actually took off TOWARDS the truck. Finally, after hundreds of rounds and several reloads, the shooting stopped. The beer made them forget that if you shoot up game like that, chances are, you're not going to get very good, if any, meat off of it.

The spotlight scanned the area for blood trails. Nothing was found. Mason decided to go check on foot. As he jumped out of the truck, he landed right on top of the rabbit snapping its neck. When he picked up the rabbit, they couldn't find one bullet or shot wound in it. All those fireworks shot off by a bunch of drunks and not one thing hurt the rabbit until Mason jumped out of the truck. The truck also suffered no wounds. Amazing.