A Michigan deer hunting story

 

Dese tree deer hunners from Chitcago been hittin' the Goebel's prurty danged hebby wen day notice tey almost on empty.

Dey was only one party store dat still sold Goebels and Strohs in longnecks an dese bohs, dey figure dey better git to dat store before it all gone. 

Dem be drivin down Mish Tenny-eight wen da biggest f-in buck in da wurl jump in fronna der truck.

Da ol boh who be dribin, he stomp on da brake an fish-tail to a stob. Dey jumb outta da truck wid der guns an run inna da wuds.

'Bout two hunnerd yards in, ona da bohs, he ben drinkin an godda take a chit. Da driber, he say hurry up.

De two udder guys wait for da guy to finnish his dump wen dey look an he be passed out next to his brown-steamer wid his long-johns round his ankles.

Dey doan wait fer him. Dey go anodder hunnert yards and see da big buck and dey shoot it. Dey hit it. Nobody more surprised dan da big buck.

It all da two can do to drag dat big buck an dey get to da buddy who passed out. He still sleepin  face down in da snow.

Den, one o da hunners remember dey doon weigh so much after you gut dem out so dey gut out da buck next to dere buddy but he not wake up.

Dey drag the buck to da truck and are heftin it into da back when dere buddy come crashin oudda da brush tryin to get his belt notched.

"Youse shour hadda shit bad!" da one hunner said.

"Boy diddi." da drunk said. "I shit my guts out. But I foun a clean stick and got most a dem back in."

An dats why hunners from Chitcago can nebber git dere belt to reach aroun him. 'is belly now too big.