We settled into our rooms. Me with my grandpa and my cousin with my uncle. I laid on the bed after I laid down my bags and guns

“what do you think you’re doing.”

I opened my eyes to see my grandpa looking at me holding a box of 243 (which was the caliber of the gun I was using) bullets.

I sat up on the bed and hung my legs over the side. “already.” I asked rubbing my eyes

“sure, it’s the perfect time.”

I unzipped the gun case and grabbed one of the two plastic cartridge holders. I opened the action of my rifle and loaded 3 bullets into it. I closed the action, making sure not to have a bullet in the barrel. The safety was on and my scope was set to six power, I was ready to go. Oh wait, No I wasn’t! I was still in my hoodie and sports pants. I grabbed my camo trousers and my heavy camo jacket, I ran to the bathroom to change.

“don’t take too long in there.”

I pulled my pants to my waist and buttoned them. “I won’t.”

I opened the door and walked into the room, decked out in all camo. I pulled on my camo boots, that I learned later where not very insulated, and a new hat that, you guessed it, was camo!

 “What are you doing?” my grandpa staring at me, not carrying any camo clothes.

“where hunting today right.”

“no, where just setting up the tree stands.”

I wasn’t mad, just disappointed. Or maybe I was mad, I didn’t care I just looked like and idiot. Not that looking like an idiot is something new to me or anyone, but you always feel some sort of grief afterwards.

Nothing interesting or mind blowing or adventurous happened for the rest of the day. We set up tree stands, ate dinner at some Mexican restaurant where my cousin was a germaphobes again because the waiter accidentally touched her straw.

Actually, the next day wasn’t interesting either, we ate at a restaurant called “crispy chicks” that had the best fried chicken I’ve ever eaten. I killed two does that day but that’s not impressive. I wanted horns, big ones.

Pshhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. The sound of a shower was roaring in the distance and woke me up. I yawned, pulled on my camo pants. Slipped on my, camo shirt. Put my, camo shoes on. And grabbed my, you guessed it, hot pink hat, just kidding it was too camo. I was tired that morning, it was my first night on that bed and I put on too much covers. I looked at the Atlantic Ocean on the bed and yawned again.

We had to wait another ten millenniums for my cousin to wake up, I think its another teenage thing to sleep 23 out of the 24 hours in a day. That morning was interesting in the fact that our IHOP waiter was probably on drugs and I killed one six-point buck and two does.

“Are you ready to eat at ed’s.”

I’ve heard about ed’s since I was born, this holy place that had the best food ever. I wasn’t too sure though, I’ve eaten at pretty good restaurants and I doubt this good be as good as some of those places. By the way, I was wrong. VERY wrong

“what chu kill yet.” The lady behind the counter asked.

At the time I had killed 5 deer while my cousin had only killed four, we always have this sort off competition to see who can kill the most. “five.”

“chu ditn’t kiw moowr den her yet.”

“I sure have.” I felt like I was under a spotlight and I was the center of attention, on a podium where I was the only one that mattered, because I killed 1 more deer than my cousin.

I grabbed my plate and ate the BEST food I’ve ever eaten. fried rice, fried chicken, and corn bread.

The lady behind the counter stared at me, amazed. “chu aint eten all dat.”

“watch me.” I said as I grabbed my tray.

“watch me.” I said as I grabbed my tray.

This was the day, the last hunt of my hunting trip.

After a short drive and almost getting stuck behind a rock, me and my grandpa where set up. I thought I was dreaming, after killing a doe I saw it. eight points and, a wild guess of, 100-200 pounds. My feet where freezing. I pressed the scope to my eye, it was also cold. I took a deep breath; the air was cold. I began to squeeze the trigger, it was cold. BAM! Nothing… there was a pause, the deer looked around

“put another one in the barrel!” my grandpa whispered.

Oh no, I missed. At the time this was the furthest shot I’ve ever taken at maybe 120 yards or so, but this was just bad. I shot again, just hoping I would hit. It was a gut shot, it wasn’t dead but so we searched for it.

“just try to find blood, oh wait!”

“what is…” I was immediately shut up as I saw the beast of an animal. I would say it’s a lot larger then when it is 120 yards away, but that’s kind of stupid.

“He is asleep, don’t make a sound.” My grandpa whispered.

I couldn’t be bothered though, I was shaking like I was mentally insane, and it wouldn’t stop. I pointed the muzzle directly at his head. just at the moment I was about to shoot, his eyes opened, and he stared. In that split moment I thought, maybe he doesn’t deserve to die, and I just shouldn’t kill him… nah. Wham! Pow! Whatever sound it makes when your third shot to a deer finally a killing shot, that’s the sound it made. That booger was dead for shure then and to this day is still the biggest set of horns I own.