The pixelated woods of West Virginia were unusually quiet. Bucky the Deer wasn't just chewing clover anymore; he was cleaning the lens of his scoped sniper rifle. After three games of systematic retribution, the humans hadn't learned their lesson. In fact, they’d escalated.
"Get 'em, boys! We'll have his head on the wall by supper!" Beauregard hollered.
As the hunters gathered around the TV to plan their next strike, they found themselves mesmerized by the intricacies of the purl stitch. While they argued over yarn weights, Bucky rigged the trailer's satellite dish to broadcast a continuous loop of nature documentaries where the deer always wins.
