One of My Hunting Buddies is a Transsexual

[Lord Long Rod]

Me and old Clint were on the way to our hunting camp on this here particular Friday afternoon. I was riding with Clint this weekend on account of the fact that the goddamn finance company repossessed my Dodge Charger last week. So we piled up inta Clint’s big old F-650 work truck fer the trip.



I had the old boy pull into the “Crash-N-Burn Liquor Store” to pick us up some adult beverages for the long ride out to the camp. Clint said, “Well, ok. But you knowd I cain’t drink and drive. The judge sed if’n I up an git me anutha DUI he is gonna take my license and put my ass in the county lock up.” I asked, “Hell, boy, how many them thar drunk drivin tickets ya’ll got now?” Clinton said he has 7 DUIs. I sed, “Hell, Clint, that thar ain’t that damn bad.” Then Clint clarified that he has gotten 7 DUI charges THIS YEAR, so far…



I told old Clint, “Well fuck, Clint. Just don’t drink a whilst ya is driving. Mount sum self-control, ya sloppy motherfucker! I want me a beer!!” Clint pulled up through the drive-thru winder of that thar licker store. I bought 3 cases of Pabst Blue Ribbon, a half gallon of Jack, a pack of turkey jerky, and the latest issue of “Fat Titties”. The beer wuz cold so I popped one them thar sumbitches open as soon as we pulled outa thar. I asked old Clint, “You want a beer, boy?” He replied, “Shit yeah!!! Gimmee one of them sumbitches!!” We then put some Conway Twitty on that old radio/cassette contraption and headed off, anticipating a relaxing weekend of deer huntin and drankin!



I eventually had to take over driving duties from old Clint. He got hisself so gall-danged sloshed up that he up and t-boned a school bus droppin the lil crumb-crushers off at home. To make matters worse, it were one of them thar short busses. Old Clint panicked, crying “Oh Sheeyit!! What we gonna do?!? What we gonna do?!?” I slapped the old sumbitch across his face and sed, “We is gonna git!!! So let’s git…NOW!!!!”



Old Clint floored it, drove us into a ditch, then launched us plum airborn!! I grabbed the steering wheel and righted the ship, pointing us down the highway, but not before we took out a couple garbage cans and a few mailboxes! After we wuz outa sight of that damned old school bus, I got Clint to pull over on the side of the road so we could change places and I could drive.



Now, admittedly, I were 3 sheets in the wind myself, having started on that bottle of Jack a half hour ago. But at least I weren’t hittin school chilluns! Clint got all kinds of upset at me fer takin over driving duties, so I let him git his old 7mm mag out so he hunt frum the truck until we got to camp. He managed to git him an old possum and a milk cow along the way, which made him feel a spell better.



We finally made it to camp at round midnight. Being that I were so lit up I got us lost over thar in Sasquatch County, whar we eventually ended up at a Dairy Queen which also ran a cooter den out back. Neither old Clint er me could git our old old Jimmies up though cuz we wuz so inebriated.



So we’uns rolled inta camp round the witchin hour. And my Lord!!! What a sight we up and dun seen when we got thar!!! Old Clint and I had dun sobered up a bit after enduring the humiliation of not being able to fuck them old injun Dairy Queen whoowahs back thar. Oh, the taunts and shame we felt!! But even if we dun still been hammered drunk, the sight we happened upon when we pulled into deer camp woulda set us straight, I tell ya what!!



There at the old camp fire were our club brothers, old Cletus, Big Mac, and Eighty-eight, the club president. They wuz a’standing thar looking down at another club member layin’ on the ground. Upon closer examination, the man on the ground were brother Wild Bill frum Doraville. And he were buck-ass nekkid!!



I asked old 88 what the hell were going on. He said “This here sumbitch dun up and turned hisself into a WOMAN!!!” I figured he were pulling my laig. So I demanded to know what the meaning of this here ghastly sight were. 88 said, “Goddamnit!! I dun told ya!! This here sumbitch dun made hisself a woman! Look!! See fer yerself!!”



Old 88 was pointing to Bill’s crotch. I squinted my eyes in the dim light and looked. I wuz simultaneously perplexed and confused. I pulled out my old dime store specs, put ‘em on my face and moved in fer a closer look. After a moment I took off my glasses, looked up at old 88, and sed, “I don’t see nothing.” Old 88 replied, “That’s the fucking point, man!!! He ain’t got no pecker no more!! He dun up an cut if OFF!!!!”



I looked again. It were true. Old Wild Bill no longer had an intact tallywacker. It weren’t ripped off either, like what ya see when thar been sum sort of farm equipment accident either. No sir! He dun had it surgically removed. I was at a loss fer words.



Suddenly, old Cletus spoke up. “It were the goddamned ‘hard cider’ shit he’s bin drankin! It dun up and turned him QUEER!!!”, he said. Big Mac was looking at his feet and shakin his head. Old 88 said, “Look, we don’t exactly knowd what happened here. Maybe them damned grays been experimenting with Bill again. Hell, maybe they dun up and scrambled his brain and he dun it to hisself.”



Old Bill had been unconscious through all of this here conversation. He was knocked out when we got thar, in fact. Hell, I jest assumed he were dead. Therefore, you can imagine my shock I got when old Bill started moving. “Oh shit!!! He’s a’coming back to life!! Kill that sumbitch!!! He’s a fucking zombie!!!”, I exclaimed.



88 looked at me and sed, “He ain’t no zombie, you stupid sumbitch! He were jest knocked out.” I wuz immediately relieved. Hell, man, I were a hundert miles as the crow flies frum my post-apocalyptic shelter!! Then 88 told me the back story.



It seemed that the boys had been sitting round the camp far earlier in the evening dranking, cooking beans, and dranking. Old Wild Bill then told the boys he needed to tell them sumthang important. He told them he were transistoring into a woman and that from now on he wanted to be called “Willamena”. Well sir, everbody got ‘em a good laugh, they figuring old Wild Bill were jest kidding with them. Then Billy got pissed and took his britches and drawers down to show ‘em his new womanly physique. The boys’ jaws dropped.



Old Cletus, who always carries his old Hawg laig, a .44 maggum, loaded and in hand, finger on the trigger, accidentally squeezed off a round as he stared in shock. The bullet whizzed by Bill’s head, causing him to stumble, fall, and hit his head on a rock, knocking him unconscious. When old Clint and I came rolling in the boys were debating whether to put him outa his misery and finish him off.



“Good gawd, 88!!!!”, I dun did sed, “You wuz gonna MURDER him?!?!” 88 replied curtly, “No sir! I wuz gonna put him out of his misery!” I dun did thunk on it fer a moment then sed, “Ok. I can see that”. 88 nodded to me. But it were all were fer naught cuz old Bill were awakin up.



Old Bill got to his feet and sed “GODDAMNIT, CLETUS!!! YOU NEARLY KILLED ME!!!” Thinking on his feet, old Cletus shot back, “WELL YOU CUT YOUR DING DONG OFF!!! HOW DID YA THINK WE WUZ GONNA REACT?!?” The tension wuz so thick ya’ll could cut it with a knife. But then things quickly changed.



See, old Wild Bill commenced to explaining how his becoming a skirt were a good thang fer the whole club. See, Bill contended that once his transition is complete he would be coming to camp all dolled up like a real woman, with a cooter hole to boot. “Uh oh”, I thought to myself. I knew whar this wuz a’headin’, and I wanted no part of this here. I announced that I wuz going to bed, and that I were gonna be sleepin’ in Clint’s truck tonight, doors locked.



I turned and walked away from the boys and toward the truck. All of a sudden I heard a loud gunshot ring out. “BLAMMMM!!!!!” My first thought wuz, “Oh shit!! They dun killed Bill!! I mean, Willomena!!!” But when I turned to see what happened, it were old Clint layin’ on the ground. All this here talk of penis loppin and dabbling im the devil’s domain we’re jest too much fer old Clint to bear. So he pulled out his old .45 and blew his own head off!!



As we all stared at Clint’s corpse in horror of what jest transpired, we dun heard the po-leece sirens. In an instant, the swat boys were on top of us!!! It seems they wuz after old Clint fer ramming’ that special needs school bus earlier in the evening.



Well sir, them old Johnny Law types kept us up all night with their questions and paperwerk and bullshit. The worst part wuz that they didn’t let us drank any!! Those rat bastards!!!



It were a pretty open and shut case, though. It seems old Clint, a habitual drunk driver, crashed into a school bus full of lil chilluns on the way to huntin camp, then felt so bad about it that he offed hisself frum the guilt. One cop, Officer Prickface, asked me point blank, “When Clint arrived here at deer camp, was he alone?” I dun looked that sumbitch in the eye an sed, “Yes he was.”



That seemed to bother the pig, as it did not conform to eyewitness reports from the scene of the accident. I said, “Well hell, Officer. You sed he hit one of them thar short buses. Them thar water heads cain’t tell thar ass from a hole in the ground, ya know?” The cop pondered on this a moment, obviously unable to discount my wise old country boy logic, and sed “Yeah, you are probably right.”



Eventually, them pigs left, and it were time to hunt! However, being without no alkyhall fer the last 6 hours, we all dun got us a powerful case of the shakes. Old 88’s trigger hand looked as if it had a case of the catalytic seizures!! So we all deecided that we better git to drankin’ right fast like so at least we can hit the woods in the afternoon.



It weren’t long before we fergot bout Old Wild Bill’s cock detachment and were a’sangin along to Conway Twitty cassette tapes being played on 88’s old VW’s stereo. Thangs got a lil blurry after that. My next mammary wuz wakin up in Old Wild Bill’s tent and seein that old boy wearing my drawers on his head and 88 layin’ on top of both of us, bare ass nekkid. Thank God fer the alkyhall! It dulls the pain and fades the mammories.

 

[Jessica-stormlover]

I don't understand why you won't just accept that this is a life choice and leave it at that? Why micromanage peoples happiness and lives?

 

[jotathought]

I don't understand why you won't just accept that this is a life choice and leave it at that? Why micromanage peoples happiness and lives?

Why macro manage a majority of Americans and demand they accept people's feelings as reality?

 

[ActionJackson]

I don't understand why you won't just accept that this is a life choice and leave it at that? Why micromanage peoples happiness and lives?

The same reason you mental midgets want to control everyone else's lives. Tell you what … you and the rest of the Pedo crowd stay way over there, and the rest of us will stay way over here. Comprehend? Stop pushing your mental illness on the vast majority of Americans, and we won't push normalcy on you folks.

 

[bluzman61]

Entertaining story, it was good for a few laughs. Thanks for the post.

 

[Lord Long Rod]

I don't understand why you won't just accept that this is a life choice and leave it at that? Why micromanage peoples happiness and lives?

I thought it was not a choice, that is is a medical condition (dysmorphia yada yada).

 

[miketx]

I don't understand why you won't just accept that this is a life choice and leave it at that? Why micromanage peoples happiness and lives?

Look Jessie, just cause he outed you in the "story" is no reason to get bitchy.

 

[airplanemechanic]

Be careful, man. He might want to stick his high caliber weapon into your porthole when you aren't looking.