I'm a fucking deer, alright? I have just as much right to exercise my god given right to own and bear arms to defend me and my deer family from you savage blood thirsty hunter, a right that has been written into our constitution.
I’ll have you know I sparred top of my herd, and I’ve been involved in numerous secret garden raids on twigs and berries, and I have over 300 confirmed gored hunters. I am trained in dodging hunter fire and I’m the top buck in the entire national forest. You are nothing to me but just another redneck. I will wipe you the fuck out with speed the likes of which has never been seen before on this Earth, mark my fucking words. You think you can get away with slaying me and my deer family? Think again, fucker. As we speak I am contacting my secret network of North American Animals with Antlers association members across the USA and your IP is being traced right now so you better prepare for the storm, maggot. The storm that wipes out the pathetic little thing you call your life. You’re fucking dead, Billy-Bob. I can be anywhere, anytime, and I can kill you in over seven hundred ways, and that’s just with my bare hooves. Not only am I extensively trained in antler combat, but I have access to the entire arsenal of deer scat and I will use it to its full extent to wipe your miserable ass off the face of the continent, you little shit. If only you could have known what unholy retribution your little “clever” game was about to bring down upon you, maybe you would have bought your meat from the store. But you couldn’t, you didn’t, and now you’re paying the price, you goddamn idiot. I will shit fury all over you and your garden and you will drown in it. You’re fucking dead, Jim-Bob.
