Let Them Eat Venison

PART II

Conclusion of previous post.

"Look man, the van's not hurt very bad. Lets just get out of here." Will reasoned. He was as anxious to get going as I was, but when it came down to it, we drove 24/7 to get nowhere in particular. There was no schedule to maintain. No deadline to meet.

" Look guys, you know as well as I do that there are hungry people in the world. This thing could feed a family for a week or more. Don't you feel obligated to get it to someone that needs it?" Justin was almost crying. His drug twisted sense of civic duty was eating at his conscience.

" So, are you really suggesting that we load up this puddle of road kill and try to find someone willing to eat it?" I asked, just for clarification. Was it just the drugs, or did this seem logical to him?

"It's not going in my van. We live in this damn thing, and I'm not going to have blood all over my living room. No fucking way." Will said as he held the head lamp of his home where it used to be. It was about five inches in front of the metal that used to cradle it. The fender had been pushed in and the bumper had a bit of a twist to it now, but other than that, it was in good shape.

"Lets go. It's too mangled to eat. I just want sleep."

"No! Man, how many times have you been hungry? This is the right fucking thing to do, and you want to just go on with your lives and say tough shit to hungry people. We can put it on top of the van. Lets do this." Justin was crying now. Were we all that spun? We did too many drugs.

"O.K. Fine. It's going on top though." Will was on board, which meant so were the rest of us. His van, his decision.

What remained of the deer was almost reduced to pudding. It's trip through the ringer had crushed all the bones and left its spine broken and exposed. It had been sitting on the side of the road for 15 minutes now and was surrounded by a dark pool of blood. The head was missing an almost perfect circle in the place where there had once been an antler. It was summer and the deer's ears were covered in fat, swollen ticks that I knew would eventually drop off as the blood cooled. As we all stood around it Justin backed the van up to where we were. Traffic was picking up now with the coming of the light.

Thinking swiftly, I climbed to the roof of the van. The others gathered around the pot roast that would eventually be hoisted to the roof. I motioned to Will silently and he joined me on top. One of the others pulled a blue plastic tarp from the van and laid it out next to the carcass. They all gingerly pushed and pulled until it laid in the center of the tarp, and their hands were all stained red. The plastic was folded in half and they began to lift. Will and I were on our stomachs, reaching down to grasp the corners of the tarp.

Once we were in control of the weight of it, the others were forced to get underneath to push it up as we pulled. I rose to my knees, pulling hard at the dead weight as I went. The extra pull on my side made the tarp tilt toward Justin, spilling the blood that had pooled on the tarp. It dribbled out, hitting him squarely in the face and down his chest. He stepped back in disgust, almost getting run down by a passing truck. I smiled a little on the inside.

After much effort the deer was almost on the van roof. Everyone stood beneath it pushing to raise it the last few inches. I heard Will mutter a few curse words as he struggled to hold the corners of the tarp. We continued to pull until the tarp rested in the center of the roof. The mess had coated them all in blood and gore, while Will and I were still clean. The roof and back of the van dripped with what used to be the deer, it's hair stuck to everything.

Will drove slowly at first since the cargo was not secured to the van with anything but gravity. We left the highway at the next exit and drove into the suburbs of St. Louis. We endured the sickened stares of the local population at the stoplight and parked in the parking lot of a grocery store to find a pay phone.

Just as we were climbing from the vehicle to search a phone book for the number to a shelter or free kitchen, the sound of sirens could be heard in the distance. I instantly new what was next. Three police cars screamed into the lot and stopped in a tactical triangle around us and our blood soaked van, blocking any possibility of escape. From routine practice, we all knew the drill. Stop. Slowly extend your arms out to the sides and move to your knees. Then, palms on the ground, belly down, don't do anything quickly.

After a through search, we were all permitted to sit with our backs against a fence and answer questions. We explained the origin of the deer, and tried to explain why it was on top of our van. Hearing it all said outloud, made the shame of stupidity evident on our faces, most of all Justin.

"Who the hell did you think would want to eat road kill?" Pig #1 asked as pigs #2 through #6 laughed at us.

"Your Mom likes meat." The crowd of shoppers that had gathered choked a giggle at my wit. Pig #1 accidentally stepped on my hand. I shut up.

"You boys should load back up in your smelly little hippy van and leave. If I find your girlfriend up there on the side of the road, I'll put you all in jail for the holiday. Understand? The county line is another 8 miles down I-70. You hang on to her till then. After that it's not my problem." The police all got in their cars and drove slowly away, blowing kisses to me as they went.

By now I was barely functioning. I needed sleep and was in a rage as I drove up the ramp to I-70. The police had followed us to the ramp before going another route. I didn't care if the deer fell off or not. I drove highway speed for 8 miles until I passed a sign that indicated we were entering the next county. As soon as I was past the sign I put my full weight ontop of my right foot, which was planted firmly on the brake pedal. As the van skidded to a stop on the side of the road, Bambi earned his wings. The tarp wrapped meat blob flew through the air in front of the van, sliding through the grass and stopping a few yards from the road. I pulled back into traffic and headed for St. Louis. Blood still dripped from the roof and now ran down the windsheild.

PART III WILL BE POSTED BY MONDAY