Kickass, the doorstop dog, watching the deer in the field below the house—all antlerless this time of year, ponders the phenomenon of antler size as a status symbol for hunters. Unable to make a meaningful contribution on the subject, he resorts to speculation:
I don’t shoot a deer for meat?
I go to McDonalds if I want to eat.
I hunt out in the cold and snow.
To get some antlers I can show.
I do not know the reason why
I just know the buck must die
So I can claim for all to hear,
I killed the biggest antlered deer.
Its head is up there on the wall,
My ego too, glass eyes and all.