“The Deer That Wasn’t Having it”

An Outdoor Addictions Short Story

It was early in the morning, you all know, that kind of crisp fall day where the air smells like pine trees, damp moss, and terrible decisions. Skunked-Again Stan - armed with coffee, maybe a little something else, that strong enough to strip paint kind stuff - sat in his blind, ready for the trophy buck he’d been dreaming about since June… or maybe April… or maybe is was last night after a few beers.

The forest was silent. Too silent.

Then CRUNCH!

A twig snapped.

Stan’s heart leaped out of his chest.

This was it. The moment. The legend. The…

Nope.

Just a squirrel the size of a baked potato, staring at him like he was the intruder.

“Beat it, nut goblin,” Stan whispered.

The squirrel didn’t move.

Instead, it chattered loudly, basically yelling, “HEY GUYS! HE’S RIGHT HERE!” in squirrel language. Then it started dropping pinecones onto the roof of the blind like it was calling in an artillery strike.

Stan was about to negotiate with the furry menace when he heard something behind him. Slow, heavy, and confident.

He turned slowly…

A doe stepped out, stared right at him, and blinked with the judgmental expression of a middle-aged librarian.

Stan froze.

The doe snorted.

Then, as if personally offended by his presence, she stomped her hoof… and farted. LOUDLY. And long enough that even the squirrel paused.

And that’s when the true humiliation hit:

The wind carried her majestic, ungodly scent straight into the blind.

Eyes watering, Skunked-Again Stan grabbed his gear and stumbled out of his blind, coughing like he’d been hit with bear spray.

As he barely escaped the noxious cloud, he looked back just in time to see the doe flick her tail, strut away, and—he swore it—smirk.

The squirrel chattered again. Probably laughing hysterically.

Stan stood there, defeated, smelling like, like woodland disaster, and muttered the phrase every Outdoor Addictions member knows too well:

“Yep… I’ll be back tomorrow.”