Making Nature Your Bitch

Posted on October 27, 2009

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Making Nature your Bitch

Seals may be fun to brutally murder, but a lot of other animals are also fun to kill; most of them deserving it. A bitch ass snake can certainly get it too. Snakes deserve to be shot just on principle. They are scary; and as we can all agree, anything scary should just be killed as a first reaction (with no prior thought.) This is the difference between first and second degree murder charges. Some snakes are labeled “friendly,” and even helpful; eating insects, rodents, and other pests. Others swallow newborn babies and goats whole. Therefore, any snake should be treated as a deadly threat, and dealt with accordingly. One good method is snake shot. animal1These rounds are manufactured by CCI and are available for most popular handgun calibers. They are cartridges sealed with a plastic cap full of tiny steel shot, instead of a bullet. They are useless at long distances, and fire a doughnut-shaped pattern. They are quiet; the report is a resounding “PFFFFFFFT!” Shotguns are much noisier, but are also much more fun and effective for snake control. If you don’t value your own life, you may not own a gun. In a pinch, here are a few other ways to keep the homestead safe; and get that new leather belt you didn’t get for Father’s Day.animal2Electric fence: Cool if it actually works, but who has one of these lying around? Guns are much handier and more plentiful. Plus, strict government regulations have been enacted recently to keep dangerous electric fences out of the hands of children and criminals. Another method is to hire Rambo to eradicate snakes on your property. animal3Sylvester Stallone isn’t doing shit these days, so his rates should be pretty reasonable. He can stalk them silently for days at a time. The only down side, is that his liability insurance does not cover your boat or home; should one of his explosive-tipped darts  miss it’s mark.animal4Going back to shooting snakes: Meet the Bond Arms family of derringers. These pistols are well made, and come in a variety of calibers. This one fires .410 shot shell; sweet. I’d keep this one stashed in a bathroom drawer inside, while completely disintegrating snakes in the yard with a 12-gauge shotgun (much better suited for the job at hand.) Whatever weapon you decide on, killing snakes is always a good idea. I think we’ve covered snakes all we need to. Let’s move on, shall we? As I was saying, any species can get some…

Here is a hog that defied me; rotting in his pen. I dumped my precious garbage scraps into a box out back. I knew I was smart to leave it with the pig; they’re aggressive, and I knew he would keep my rotten meat and produce safe from potential thieves. Wilbur here betrayed me; he ate my garbage. In my opinion, if a trusted member of your ‘family’ steals from you once, they will surely do it again. I was not going to give him another chance to do so. The next Tuesday, I clanged the slop bucket at lunch time to get his attention. I had filled the bucket with dirt and gravel (to get his hopes up; he had already gotten the last free meal from me that he would ever get.) As he snorted and nudged the bucket with his nose, looking for nutrition, I quickly unholstered my guns. I quietly muttered a racial slur at him in Italian, and emptied both guns on him at close range. I hit him with all sixteen .45-caliber bullets. The first shot had killed him instantly; but once I began, I figured I may as well finish what I had started. animal5I reholstered my left pistol, and reloaded my right; Duke had seen too much. I had originally planned on letting him live; to abide by the lesson about loyalty he had just learned. Then I said, “Fuck it.” “No witnesses.” He was probably deaf as a post now, too; on account of all the shooting. I raised the pistol and fired once in Duke’s direction, hitting him in the side. He howled and whined in pain; his face displayed a look of betrayal. Loyalty is a hell of a thing. I climbed into the pen. I kicked and stomped Wilbur a few more times to drive home my point about loyalty. Then I knelt by Duke. I explained that while I was loyal to him after all, some things were simply out of my control. I put the .45 in his mouth and squeezed the trigger 6 more times, completely destroying his head. It was time to wash up and have lunch.animal6Here’s a deer I nicknamed Precious. I had witnessed her trespassing on my land on several occasions. I used a scoped Winchester Model 70; chambered for the potent .30-06 round. One shot, one instant, beautiful kill. I made it a point to round up the rest of her family once deer season rolled around. Shooting baby deer is the most sporting; smaller target = harder to hit. Enjoy rotting in the death pen with Wilbur and Duke, Precious; at least your family can keep you company now.animal7Here we have a black bear named Walter. This furry little bastard was found guilty in my court of law on the following charges: trespassing, eating my fruit without a permit, criminal menacing, being a bear on a Saturday, and public urination…on my property. Sentence: DEATH. I lured him to a tree stand on the center of my field with apples; he had stolen so many before (maybe 10-15,) that I knew he couldn’t resist. I shot him in the neck with a bow and arrow before he could change his mind about meeting with me. Awesome shot; the arrow nicked his spine, and incapacitated him immediately. Blood was spraying from the wound like a geyser. He let out a low roar; as if asking what he had done wrong. I took it as both a full confession and an apology; which is all I really ever wanted. Again, I had gone this far, so I had to finish it. I snapped the arrowhead off in his neck. I proceeded to tug him around in little circles by the fur on the top of his head; out of his pool of now-congealing blood. His eyes were barely open now, yet he still managed to be making noise; another punishable crime. I had to smack him hard on the snout just to keep him conscious for what was about to happen. I worked him over with my machete until all hope was gone. I eviscerated him, and left him in the open as a warning to other bears in the area (plus the death pen was already pretty full.) I’m proud to say that I have not seen another bear since. “FLAWLESS VICTORY.”animal8This dumb shit’s name used to be Critter. Since he generally spent most of his days lying in this very position, I figured death wouldn’t be much of a stretch for him. He wouldn’t mind; I’d grant him his wish to sleep every day. I kept him chained to the bumper of an old Buick I had in the garage (one of my project cars) for about 20 hours each day. I got super pissed the last time I went out to work on the car. It was a humid, sunny day, and Critter had gone to the bathroom on the floor again; despite the fact that I had deprived him food and water for the past week to stop him from going. I’ve cleaned up after him twice already, and there was not going to be a third; but Critter had decided that there would. I set down the box of car supplies (gold spray paint to touch up all the chrome parts and my spinner hubcaps (make my ride look fresh.) I did the math: I could clean up his small mess and remain at his mercy, or I could clean up a slightly larger mess, and solve the problem for good. I grabbed a latex glove from the ‘fresh ride’ box, and put it on. I picked up his mess; and held him down to stuff it in his mouth. (I realized that at this point that the mess had technically been cleaned up, but I suddenly smelled it; and my sense of smell had been offended.) I snatched a snow shovel off the pegboard wall and began raining blows down on his disrespectful face. I knew he had to pay the ultimate price for his indiscretions. Blood began to run out of him pretty steadily. I swung more; cursing and yelling in a blind rage. I slipped in the pile of dog shit I had just dropped, and nearly lost my footing. This made me even angrier at him, so I swung harder. I could tell he was just dying as I stopped; I could almost see the little ghost squiggle out of him skyward. Ironically, as Critter died, he shit himself again.

Another elephant senselessly gunned down in the projects:animal9This elephant came to the hood last week to score a few dimes of weed. I had never seen him before, but knew that as an elephant, there was no conceivable way for him to be a cop. He gave me enough cash for three bags, but I decided to short him; just to see if I could get away with it (You know how elephants are; he’s only buying from me because he needs to. Everyone knows that elephants only spend their money with their own kind!) He began stomping and whining; swinging his trunk wildly. I asked him to keep it down; I didn’t need my neighbors sending the police around for a noise complaint. When he began bumping me with his head, I knew that shit was about to get live. I pulled my gun from the front of my pants, and aimed it directly at his face. I told him to go fuck his big elephant mama; suggesting that everyone else had, since she was a prostitute that worked for me. I didn’t wait for him to charge me; I just started dumping out bullets as fast as I could squeeze the trigger. He winced and tried to move back away from my door frame. As he turned to run, I was still shooting. Several of my shots hit him broad side; he was hurt bad. He staggered out to the street as I scooped up his dropped bags of herb and closed the door. I peeked out the front window just in time to see him collapse in front of the crack den next door; it was their problem now.

A blueprint: animal10Be clear; an elephant isn’t as easy to kill as one might think. Their skulls are thick, brain well reinforced, and all other internal organs well-insulated. Up close, these big fuckers stand a fighting chance at self defense; so you have to make the wounds you inflict count. Many of my bullets had only hit him in the “meat.” I think it was my last five into his front/side that did him in. The cops still have no idea what happened to him; an elephant shot dead in the wrong neighborhood, with no cash. They probably think crack heads robbed him; it happens all the time around here. I don’t stress it, but I still keep my eyes open. The other day, I saw a car full of elephants on the next block; I wondered if they were looking to pay me back. As a precaution, I picked up an elephant gun from one of my homeboys last night. I’ll be ready if they come back.

The mangled penguin: animal11This little guy is (well, was) absolute proof that ANY animal can feel my wrath; for any reason. On a recent outing to the zoo, I was delighted to see that they had recently added penguins to their Arctic lineup. I felt such glee watching these merry little buggers diving, swimming, sliding on their bellies, flapping their little flippers, and marching around in circles. I decided I would take a photo to capture the moment. One bird stood out among the rest; and I vowed that he would be the subject of my photograph.  He was larger that the rest and carried himself with a sense of pride; the noble alpha. He stood on a boulder above the rest as I waited for the digital camera to power up. As I aimed to capture the image, he suddenly dove from his perch, deep into the water below. I was convinced that this little bastard knew I wanted the picture, and simply refused to play ball. I waited a few moments for him to return to his spot, but he never did; instead opting to swim mindlessly against the glass in the back corner of his environment. My mind went blank; with knife suddenly in hand, I knew I was on track to do something awful to him in return. I was alone in the exhibit, and there was no lock on the door unto the ice. I made my move. I plunged into the freezing water and pinned him against the glass that he was so anxious to touch. He squeaked as I snatched him up and stepped onto the ice. Without thinking, I started stabbing him furiously. My Obsessive Compulsive Disorder found me counting to 37; surprisingly, that many knife wounds causes massive trauma to a small bird. Move #38 was to hold him in my left hand, while punching his soft belly with my right. Next, I ripped an air hose from the wall and stuffed it deep into one of his many wounds. The former object of my affection exploded. My final assault was to spike what little of him was left against the back wall. I finished my 40-count and ran like hell. I quickly made my way to a nearby men’s room to clean up; if I hurried, I could still stop and see the monkeys before closing time.

-KZ

(Note: Obviously, this thread was bullshit. There is no way I would EVER hurt an animal; or put tacky spinner hubcaps on my car.)

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