The Deer Hunter
I was friends with this couple. They were good people and they had two nice little daughters. They would have me over for dinner in their nice little house. And then things started looking up for them and they moved to a nicer little apartment. Then things got really good for them and they moved to a bigger house where the kids each had their own room.
One night they had a leg of venison, but they said they didn’t want it. They didn’t know how to cook it, so did I want to have it. Sure, says I. But where did you get it?
He says that his boss is a hunter and would come back with deer meat and distribute it to his employees. Quite a number of times my friends passed on to me the venison from this man’s hunting.
My friend had been working as a mechanic in a garage. But now he was working for a car thief. In a chop shop. And the money was good and he liked the guys in the shop. He described the boss as a very intense man.
One night the boss man delivered the venison himself because he wanted to meet me. Apparently, I was a consistent person who would welcome the meat. I’d met intense guys like him before. He was a Charlie Manson type.
This story was told to me by my friend and a workmate of his. They would go up to the mountains. Find a place to pull off unseen from the road. The boss guy who would take off all his clothes, except for his shoes, and strap a knife onto his thigh. Then he would go out looking for deer. He took off his clothes to lessen the scent. The other guys would watch from a distance if they could.
He was able to get very close to the animal. Sometimes he would jump on to it and break its neck. Sometimes he would slit the throat. Sometimes he would bang it over the head with a rock. Then he would quickly bleed it out and eviscerate, or field dress it, (take out its guts). He would put the deer on his shoulders and carry it back to the car.
In a way, I can admire that as a way of hunting more than someone hunting with a rifle. But here there was also an uncomfortable intensity, a disregard, amorality maybe.
After meeting the guy, after hearing this story, knowing what his business was, I drifted away from that group of guys and my friends.
And for years, I installed kill switches in any car I drove.