Maybe I'm paranoid. Or maybe they really are out to get me.

I think they have some kind of vendetta against me. They are looking to get some pay back. I killed one of theirs, doesn't matter to them if it was an accident or not. I'm sure they are out to get me...................

I suppose I should explain. It all started about 2 weeks ago. I've been running routes 7 nights a week, every week, for the last 10 weeks or so. About 2 or 3 weeks ago is when it all went down. I know, 2 or 3 weeks is a big spread, but the nights are all running one into the other. This ridunculous work load is whats kept me from doing much writing, or much of anything else for that matter. They tell me it's all going to wind down by the 5th of November, I can't wait, I definitely need a break. I'm just worried I may not make it until the 5th. They may get to me before then. If that proves to be the case, if they manage to take me out, I want it on record. Need to leave a trail for the cops to follow.

Back to that night.

I'm driving south on 65 highway, a few miles outside of Warsaw. Hillbilly country. At least this time of year. It's getting too cold for the lake crowd to come down. They've mostly all pulled their boats out of the water, winterized their lake cabins. Now it's just the locals. I haven't seen so many pickup trucks since my last trip to Oklahoma. All the stores I've been delivering to in these parts have that same vibe, heavy with B.O. and lots of Camo clothing.......

Let me back up for a minute, try to explain what I mean. I've been running a seasonal product to various locations of the nations largest retailer. The one with blue haired  greeters in blue vests. Yeah, that one. Occasionally I'll run some of the local stores here in KC, but for the most part I'm spending my time running up and down every two lane piece of shit "Highway" in the rural areas of Missouri and Kansas. Now you would think that a retail store that sells everything from T Bones to Televisions would have plenty of hygiene products on hand. Soap, deodorant, shit like that. And they do, but judging from the pervasive odor of armpits and ass these Billy Bobs are spending all their cash on skoal and Taylor Swift posters, rather than soap and Right Guard. Doesn't seem to matter if I'm in Warsaw Missouri or Hiawatha Kansas, they all smell the same. Reminds me of prison, same smell.  So now that you get an idea of where I'm spending my nights, back to The Night it all went down...........

Like I said, I'm running 65 mph down 65 highway. It narrows down to just a narrow 2 lanes a few miles north of Warsaw. I crest a hill and just as I notice that the oncoming traffic has stopped, it happens. The stupid fucker just walked right out in front of me. A deer. About the size of a Great Dane. I hit the furry fucker before I can even touch the brake pedal. You know how you can look back on an incident that took a matter of seconds, and you recall all the minutia like it was in slow motion. This thing was like that. I notice the pickup trucks lights aren't moving in the oncoming lane. I see a big ass buck standing on the narrow shoulder to my right. Next thing I know the now dead doe is right there in front of me. I've still got some of her hair in my grill, kind of my way of sending out a message. Problem is, I think it's pissed off the rest of the deer community. When I hit her I got mad lucky. Normally you hit a deer at 65 mph in a small 4 door modern-ish car, you can pretty much kiss your car goodbye. If you are lucky, a few grand later and your car is about the same as pre-collision. If you are unlucky, you end up on the 6 O'clock news. Man dies from deer antler to the face. This time I was lucky. I hit the deer, she does a triple back flip across both lanes of road. Max is snoozing in the passenger seat, never even wakes up until I stop the car. I pull to the narrow shoulder, rattled. The Billy Bob in the pickup drives on, never so much as a " You okay?". So much for country hospitality. You cant get the pricks to stop waving as they pass you on the road, but that friendly farmer bullshit goes right out the window if it requires actual speaking. I examine my car. I come away with a dent in the front of the hood, a cracked headlight cover, and a bunch of deer hair embedded in the grill. I cross the road, the deer is as dead as a door knob. I spit on her just for good measure.

I've run that same route about 4 or 5 times since. Every single time I've had at least one near miss with a deer. I'll see them standing 3 or 4 deep off the side of the road, just staring at me. It's like being mean mugged in the prison yard. Some prick giving you the fish eye, trying to size you up. Whoever looks away first loses. Last night I had like 5 of these fuckers just step out on the road, stand there, looking at me like they are Sam Jackson, daring me to say "What" one more time. I'm so jumpy I locked my brakes up when I thought I saw a deer standing at the edge of the road. Turns out it was a mailbox. One of those stupid mailboxes that looks like a giant fish, a bass or something. I get home at night, I've got to self medicate with a stick of hippy lettuce the size of my thumb. It helps, don't judge. When I started running these routes, before I killed the bitch, I was relaxed, driving through the dark, having fun winding through the curves. Now, I'm hunched over the wheel like your grandma, trying to scan both sides of the road. I ran over an already dead coon or opossum last night. A little effeminate shriek escaped my lips before I could check myself.  It's a fuckin embarrassment.

I know what you are thinking. " MM has lost it. Dude has sugar in his tank"  Maybe so, maybe I am losing it, but I tell you these deer are fuckin with me. They know. I figure its come down to this, Fight, Flee, or Climb a Tree. I'm afraid of heights, and I'm too stubborn to run, so I guess it's on like a pot of neck bones. Its either me or them. I'm gonna blow up a couple of these Jason Miller pics, stick em to the side of my car. I figure the deer don't know shit about this guy. All they'll see is some whack job holding one of their cousins melons. Far as they know, dude is like a deer Al Qaeda or something. Next time I see one of these furry hoofed rats standing on the side of the road I'll do the old open car door clip on em. It's on like Donkey Kong, if I quit now, the deer terrorists win. But just in case I don't make it. If they manage to take me out in some crazy suicide brown bomber type plot. Just know I didn't lay down. I went out sitting up.

And somebody, Feed Max.