Rambling Rhodes

FOUND! Dick Cheney's Hunting Journal!

SATURDAY, FEB. 11, 2006

8:13 a.m.--Beautiful day. Light haze. Should be a good day for a hunt, particularly since the area was seeded with nearly 400 quail. I should be able to hit SOMETHING.

9:20 a.m.--Haven't had much luck yet. Despite having fired 12 rounds, no birds have folded. I'm going to have to get my eyes checked after this I think.

10:02 a.m.--The fellows are having a good laugh at me right now. We scared up a covey of about 30 quail, and everyone folded at least one except for--you guessed it--me. Oh well, there's plenty of time left in the day, and plenty more quail. Like I said, I'm sure I'll shoot something by the end of the day.

11:17 a.m.--That Whittington is going on and on, crooning about his 34th folded quail of the day. Okay, man, jeez, it's impressive, but come on. No luck for me, yet. If I don't get a bird by the end of the morning, I'm calling it quits.

11:57 a.m.--Well, I finally got my bird. A Goddamned crow got in my line of sight just when I pulled the trigger. A crow. A Goddamned crow. The guys are having a good laugh about that one. Now I HAVE to get a quail, just so they forget about that damned crow. I don't think my day could possibly get any worse.

12:30 p.m.--Lunch. One of the guys offered to cook my crow for me. Har-dee-har. Whittington's looking over his pile of dead birds like he's lording over a naked human pyramid or something. Why don't you take a picture, Whittington, it'll last longer. Er, no, scratch that.

1:37 p.m.--Back to the hunt. I swear I folded a quail just now, but we can't find the stupid bird. I know it's around here somewhere, no matter what those mocking assholes are saying. And enough with the "Little Cheney Sure-Shot," line, guys. Honestly, it was barely funny the first time.

2:22 p.m.--Jeebus Christmas. I've fired 120 rounds and only have a Goddamned crow to show for it. Whittington's bagged 62 quail. The man could fire blindfolded and knock a damned bird out of the air. It seems like I'm shooting in every direction EXCEPT at the quail. Just one of those days I guess. Sure is frustrating though.

3:15 p.m.--I can't believe this. Nothing. Not a Goddamned thing (except for that fucking crow). Yeah, I'm saying the F-word now. Might as well. fuck it. At this point, the quail only appear nervous when I'm NOT aiming at them. Whittington's offering to share some of his quail. He's sure being a smarmy little bastard. Big time.

4:31 p.m.--The guys are taunting me mercilessly now. Is it too much to ask to fold one Goddamned quail to shut these guys up? They've got my heart-rate up, and that's never a good thing.

5:20 p.m.--Whittington got ANOTHER ONE. He's a one man Golden Plump slaughterhouse. He's skipping away to get his bird singing "Another one for me/none for the VP." He's hysterical, he is.

5:31 p.m.--I just shot Whittington in the face. More on this later.

6:15 p.m.--I guess he's going to be okay. Thank God for my attendant medical staff. Just for the record, I have to say it was an accident. I know it looks bad in light of everything that transpired today, but it was a genuine accident. The other guys are acting a bit wary around me. God this is embarrassing.

7:12 p.m.--I wonder what the press is going to say about this? Once they understand it was an accident, I'm sure it won't amount to anything.

8:33 p.m.--I just spoke with Whittington. He's groggy from the anesthetic, but he managed a weak, "Ya done shot yahself a lawyer, Veep." He's being a pretty good sport, considering. I can't believe I shot him in the fucking face. It reminds me of that one movie with that Saturday Night Fever actor and a Scripture-quoting black man. . . Pimp Function? Plump Friction? I hate when I can't remember shit like this. Anyway, they shot some guy in the face in the back of a car. That's what this reminds me of. Except with bird shot. And we're older.

9:38 p.m.--Well, there's not much more I can do tonight. Whittington's asleep, and I'm fading fast. What an entirely crappy day this turned out to be. Lights out. Still, I have the oddest feeling that I'm forgetting something though. Meh, can't be that important. PULP FICTION! That's the name of the movie. That must have been what I was forgetting. Now I can get some sleep.

Posted by Ryan at February 13, 2006 05:21 PM | TrackBack