Hunters:
Last year was a record year for the number of hunters at
BBHE. In 2015 our hunter list was rich. We had The Core:
- Neil Miller (Master of the Game 2010)
- Martin Riedel
- Rob Vinson (Master of the Game 2013, 2014)
- Kit Vinson (Master of the Game 2012)
We also had a slew of guest hunters:
- Marchall Jeffus
- Vivki Jeffus
- Sterling Vinson (Master of the Game 2015)
- Victoria Vinson
- Chris Bernal
This year the numbers will be much different.
Marshall and Vicki didn't have the guts to ask their
daughter to move her wedding date far away from opening weekend of deer season.
I can certainly understand that. I mean, there are only 365 days in a year.
When you only have 52 weeks to choose from for a wedding, them's pretty slim
pickins for options. The other 51 weeks of the year must have been pretty
crappy weeks to have a wedding, right? I totally get it.... sort of. Not
really. No, I don't get it. There, I said it. It's on the table for all to see.
I don't understand how anybody could let something like this happen. This is
how it would have gone down at my house, "Sure, y'all can pick that week
to have a wedding. I hope that you guys take a lot of great pictures so I can see
how the wedding went because I'll be hunting in Arkansas that week. Here's a
thought. Why don't you go to the Rent-A-Center and see if they can rent you a
dad to walk you down the isle because this dad will be sittin' in a deer blind
waiting for that monster buck to stick his head out so I can get my name on the
Master of the Game plaque." But instead, it will be YOU Marshall Jeffus,
that has to go to the Rent-A-Center to see if they can rent you a usable set of
balls.
Both Victoria and Sterling recently graduated from Graduate
School and found highfalutin jobs back east. I would tell you all about their
jobs but it is all top secret. If I told ya I'd have to kill ya. Some things
just aren't worth knowin'. Anyway, they are out of the mix. Y'all go on and
spend your opening week hanging around a bunch of damn yankees. Or should I
have said, "yous guys" go on. Fine. Fine. No, it's not fine. How
anybody could pick a stupid job over a chance to get your name on the Master of
the Game plaque is far beyond my ability to comprehend. Who would pick total
strangers, and yankee strangers at that, over family is beyond me.
Rob still has a freezer full of venison. He is also saving
up his time off to go visit his kiddos back east during the winter break. All
that's just fine with me. Since he and his clan have dominated the Master of
the Game competition for the past three years it will be a good thing to give
the rest of us undeserving peons a chance to ring the bell and take home the
plaque. I think that I speak for all of the other hunters when I say that I'd
take a win by default any day of the week. Just wait until you see what I will
do to your coveted "honey hole" when you next see it. I'll have so
many blinds erected on your spot the next time you hunt there that you won't be
able to recognize the place. Dubai will look like a kid playing with LEGOa
compared to what I have planned for your precious hunting grounds.
And Neil Miller, don't think for a second that you are out
of the heat on this one just because Uncle Bob is your granddad. "I have
to go pheasant hunting with an important business contact on that week waa, waa
waa." I don't even know where to start on this one. Am I even hearing you
right? You're choosing a scrawny bird over a majestic deer? Your head must be
full of scrambled eggs because there sure as hell aint no brains up in there.
You turds will get no sympathy from me! You want sympathy,
look in the dictionary between shit and syphilis! That's where you'll find my
sympathy.
Now, I want all you "hunters" who can't seem to be
able to show up to BBHE 2016 to drop down and give me twenty.... One! Don't you
feel dumb. Two! Look at you. Three! Don't you ever think about missing BBHE
again or else I'll stomp you into the ground.....
See what we have here is a failure to communicate. Know
this, killing is my business, ladies, and business is good. Do not attempt to
challenge my authority. I have six weeks to turn you gaggle of maggots farts into a
well-discipline hunting club. From this day forward your sorry asses belong to
me. You will not eat, sleep, drink, blow your nose or dig in your buts without
my say so.
Be advised, ladies, I am going to WIN the Master of the Game
this year! You will note my emphasis on the word WIN: Whisky! India! November!
GET USED TO THE SOUND OF THAT WORD!
Does Charlie care about jobs, or weddings, or winter break?
HELL NO. Charlie is just waiting out in the jungle for a weakling like you to
come by.
And who’s going to put red meat on your table after the zombie apocalypse?
Certainly not you. You’re too busy fluttering around to all of your social
engagements like a butterfly. The survivors will be the ones who are trained
and practiced deer killers. The rest will be gathering the crumbs under our
table.
For the rest of you who have your priorities straight and
will be at BBHE 2016 this year, you're still a shit sandwich. You're just not a
soggy one. From this moment, you are no longer turds. You have graduated to
maggots!
This year's core will most likely consist of:
- Martin Riedel
- Kit Vinson
With a special guest hunter:
- Chris Toliver
Of course, we will all stay home when the day comes that The Duke of Oil decides not to show up. We'll see you guys in 47 more days.
