Creative Writing: The Monster Whitetail

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The Monster Whitetail
“Tackle him Scott, tackle him!” I yelled at the top of my lungs. I wasn’t about to let the biggest moonshine bust in Franklin County get away, let alone the state of West Virginia. Scott was running as fast as he could, huffing and puffing. I was right behind Scott, and right before I was able the pull my taser out. Scott had that stinky backwoods bastard on the ground. Scott was hooting and hollering, “Did you see that? He got dropped like a ten pound sack of bricks.” I just chuckled and said, “hurry and throw the cuffs on him, we need to get ready for our big hunt tomorrow.” Scott, like always hustles to get the cuffs on the guy. Scott is my best friend. I have known the guy from way back in high school, and he hasn’t
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That’s when Scott started to giggle like a little school girl. “What is so funny?” I shout. Scott could barely contain his laughter, “You looking for two all black rounds?” I answer instantly with a demanding yes. The most irritating thing of all was that they were in my pocket.
Seven hours into the hike we have not seen a single deer and wish that Scott would have just let me pick the hunting grounds. But he kept insisting that this place produces monster whitetails. I finely decided to ask Scott. “I thought that this place had monster deer.” “Ya, a buddy at the gym told me so”. I swear that all the creatine is messing with Scott’s head, or his mom played soccer with his giant head as a baby. Either way, he isn’t the sharpest tool in the shed. We kept walking on until I smelt something oh to common for a ABC agent, death. I whisper to Scott, “Do you smell that?” “Ya I do, smells like something died in your pants”, Scott says. I told Scott, “No, I am dead serious, smells like something is really dead.” That’s when Scott pointed and told me to look at a ball of sharp wooden spikes. A poor Fawn was impailed by the ball and had been dead for days. That’s when I said to Scott, “sure hope that’s not the only deer we find.” Scott

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