Yesterday when we went to feed and water the cattle across the road, we discovered someone had left us a gift by the mailbox: the viscera, a bloody thoracic chunk and the partial hide of a deer.
Now, I know just as well as anybody that severe cases of white trash enculturation lead to clumsily abhorrent behaviors that may be mistakenly construed as hostile. I’m almost willing to accept that some rancid piece of preverbal gristle didn’t notice the guts sliding out of the back of his truck and sloshing onto our road frontage while he was on the way to the food mart to buy some mango flavored dip so he could trick his sister back into the hog trot to freshen her up.
But I’ve also learned overthinking these things is just a as much a waste of time as referring the matter to law enforcement.

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