You have asked for it. I am giving it to you. Now, bend over and cough. Just kidding. Unless you are cute. I believe it is time for a new Drunk Files. The last time you read about the Murph and his drunken exploitations was the time he was about ready to be raped by a buck. This story is also a deer hunting story. Seriously, he shouldn’t hunt and drink. Somewhere, this blog is gonna spark a fucking huge ad campaign. Don’t Drink And Shoot. This entry into the drunk files is entitled, Hanging Around.
It was just like any other normal morning that a person would get up at 5 A.M.. I was feeling the effects of a good time the night before. How do I remedy this. Easily. Hair of the Dog. I sit down to the breakfast table with a bottle of Bud Light and a bag of Dwight Yoakam’s Linky Links Precooked Sausages.(Actual Product) The night before, pre all the beer drinking. I bought a a self climbing tree stand. It fits me perfectly. It looks like a lawn chair you are able to sit in a tree with. It looks like most of my living room furniture. I love it. After that wonderful breakfast, I was feeling refreshed. In my terms, that means I was still drunker than Cooter Brown. I put on my cammo and hunter orange. If I may so, I look spiffy. I am drunk. I can use any mother fucking word I want to. I get in the Murph mobile and head out for a lovely day in the woods.
I am looking for the perfect tree to hang my deer shooting barcalounger. Out of the corner of my eye, There it was. The tree was so beautiful. The only thing missing was hanging some empty beer bottles and covering it in tinsel. You would have the perfect redneck Christmas Tree. I get my stand out of the back of my truck and realized something. No one actually told me how to hook this thing up. Oh well, I got this. I get it tied to the most beautiful tree in the world. I start heading upward. Gun in hand. I have the feeling, I am gonna get the big one.
I got it to the perfect height. I have my gun in hand. Now, all I can do is wait. It’s really quiet. You can hear a squirrel eating a nut. All of a sudden. I hear a clicking sound. I look around wonder what in the flying butt fuck was that. An hour or so goes by, Click. There it is again. I started to fear for a minute that the bucked I killed was back from the dead to seek revenge on my ass. Very little time goes by and I hear again. I am starting to sound like Ron Jeremy since I am breathing so heavy. Then, I knew I screwed the pooch on this one. The mechanism to hoist my self up and down the tree fell. I watched it fall, the only thing running through my mind was FUKETY FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK.
I am now stuck in this tree. I have only been out here for about 3 hours. What am I supposed to do? Well a couple of hours later the unthinkable hits. I have to piss. I am freaking out. I dont want my buddies to that I have peed my pants. A little bunny rabbit comes hopping up to right in front of me. He started eating some grass. It was really cute. I hope he don’t mind getting pissed on. I am sitting down piss aiming at the rabbit. After I was done peeing on Buster Bunny. I looked at him and said it’s better to be pissed off than pissed on.
It’s beginning to turn dark. No one has found me up here. I am screaming help, SOS, save me. I even tried yelling rape but everyone knows you can’t rape the willing. It’s pitch black out now. I am singing Rock A Bye Baby. One good gust of wind and I am toast. My friends finally decide to come looking for me. They look up and at me and I tear them a new asshole. “ Mother fuckers! Where in the hell have you been? I have been stuck up here all damn day. Not a damn one of you could help me.” “Murph.” They said in a way like I am an idiot. “ You are only 3 feet off the ground.” I say, “That is not the fucking point. The point is, you fucking left me out here to die. For this reason, you guys are buying all the beer tonight.” The moral of this story, make your friends feel guilty, they will supply the booze.