Yeah bigmouth, now what? Hunting Season ended yesterday and you're still up this damn tree trying to bag a deer. Where's Jessie? He's in the lodge, eating cracking cornbread and drinking Sweet Lucy whiskey while I ain't et since Thursday.

"I'll eat when I climb down from the damn treestand to get the nine point food that I shot", my bigmouth had said.

This is my third day in the tree. I'm hungry, I'm thirsty, I'm hallucinating. Last night I dreamed that fat and well antlered deer were everywhere, behind each bush, up in the tree, even flying about in the sky. Then I woke up to a gray sky and empty woods. But wait! Not fifty yards away in the foliage I heard a russle. The evergreen leaves moved slightly as the deer came closer. I raised my Remmington and fired and heard a scream. Hmm, I thought, deer don't scream.

"Oh Sweet Jesus" I cried. "I've shot Jessie!"