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Chapter 75 Getting Lucky Sometimes:>1

  • The joint had a hardpacked dirt floor. No shit, real dirt!! And its inhabitants were eyeing me like a herd of nervous wildebeest - albeit slightly less intelligently. Still, the deer was the piece-de-resistance.
  • Deer heads aren't rare in Wisconsin. I mean seriously!! Besides the MMA, deer hunting's probably our state sport. Even so, this place was like the East Village of rustic avant-garde. Other bars put up the antlers. This one had mounted the hindquarters. There was even an unlit cigarette stuck in the butthole. It was a truly awesome example of redneck visual art.
  • I was sitting in that epitome of hillbilly savoir-faire with a pitcher of Miller Lite and Skipper McPhee. Skipper was my girlfriend. Well actually... that wasn't precisely true. Skipper was a friend of sorts. But she'd put girlhood in her rearview mirror at least twenty years previously.
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