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Got this off another board and thought some might like it

We pull up in front of this brick house, which looks like so many others in this residential neighborhood of my hometown. Parked in the driveway is a brown and white Chevy 4 x 4. “This must be the place,” I say.
My wife looks down at a small index card in her hand, then at the license plate on the truck. “Let’s see, license number S-L-O-B 1.” she says, “Yep, this is it.”
We turn into the driveway, get out and start unloading the car. We are about finished when the front door of the house opens.
“Can I help you?” he asks.
“I think we can handle it, “I reply.
He looks puzzled. “What I meant was, what are you doing here?” “We’re going on a picnic.” “You’re what? Do I know you?” “Well, we’ve never been formally introduced,” I say, “but you and your buddies have been out to our farm a couple of times and since you never seem to have the time to introduce yourself, we thought we would stop by for a visit, Slick. Where’s your barbecue pit?”
I let my cigarette drop out of my mouth and onto the driveway, then make an exaggerated show of stamping it out.

He looks at me in disbelief. I reach into my pocket and pull out the rest of the pack.

“Want one?” I start to offer him the pack, then pull it back. “Oh, that’s right. You and your friends smoke cigars, don’t you. I found a couple of stogies butted out right where the grass fire started last year. Boy, that was some kind of fire, Slick. You should have seen it...”
“Look,” he interrupts, “I don’t know what you’re doing here, but...”
It was my turn to interrupt. “Well, Slick ol’ buddy, it’s been nice chatting with you, but we’re losing daylight here and we’ve got some picnicking to do. Just point us to the backyard.”
I crush my empty soda can and toss it over my shoulder into a rose bush. “Hey,” he says, “What do you think you are doing?” He runs over to pick up the can. My wife, the kids and I grab our gear and head around the house.
My wife shrugs, reaches into her purse and pulls out a quarter. “Heads we use the gate and tails we climb the fence.” The coin lands on heads. “Cheer up dear,” she says, “We can climb the fence on the way out.” She always did know the right thing to say.
Slick comes stomping around the corner, my soda can in his hand, just as I open the gate. “Look out,” he yells. Too late. A big Irish Setter bolts through the gate and does a couple of complete circles in Slick’s front yard. Then the dog dashes across the street, cuts through the neighbor’s yard and disappears behind a house.
“Do you know what you’ve done?” Slick shouts. “That dog will run for hours. Who knows what kind of trouble he’ll get into?”
“Aw. Slick I’m really sorry,” I say, gently knocking my palm on my forehead. “I just wasn’t thinking. I never suspected you had a dog fenced up back here.”
He clenches his fist. “You idiot! Why would I have a fence here if I didn’t have something penned up?”
“Calm down, Slick. Look, it was just an oversight. Probably the same kind of goof you and your buddies made last fall out at our place when you left that gate open and 15 of our steers got out.
He starts to say something, then turns around suddenly and takes off running in the direction of the dog.
“Excitable fella,” I say.
“Definite Type A personality,” my wife answers.

Slick reappears about 45 minutes later. “Hey Slick,” I call. “Couldn’t find the dog, huh? Oh well, don’t worry, he’ll probably be back in a week or so.”
His mouth drops open, as though he is looking at us for the first time. He screams, “Hey get off, that’s my new grass seeding. See the sign?”
“What sign?” I ask innocently. He walks over to a small signpost and turns it around so it faces my wife and me. “Can’t you read?” he bellows.
“Sure I can, Slick. It says: ‘Keep off the grass.
He clenches his fists again. “Well?”
I pause for a second or two before speaking. “Aw, Slick. I thought if anybody would realize that signs are just for decoration, it would be you."
I walk over to my gear and pull out a .22 pistol. Before Slick can say anything, I level the gun at the sign and fire off six quick shots. My wife runs over to the sign and calls back:
“Six out of six! Great shooting, dear.”
I puff out my chest a bit, then push the gun toward Slick. “Still three rounds left in the clip, want to give it a go?” He backs away. “Slick I’m surprised at you. If it weren’t for you and your buddies, I never would realize what great sport shooting holes in signs can be. C’mon let’s see what you can do.”
He doesn’t move. “Oh, .1 get it, Slick. You only shoot holes in no-trespassing signs, huh? Oh well, nothing wrong with a purist, I always say.”
Just then I hear a noise behind me. I wheel around to see a squirrel scurrying across the roof of Slick’s garden shed. I level the gun again. “No don’t...” Slick yells.

I fire off the last three rounds. “Missed! doggone it Slick, you startled me when you yelled.” Slick runs to the shed. “Look at this,” he says, pointing to three small holes, two in the siding and one in the window pane. “You’ll pay for this.”
“Okay Slick, just send me a bill, then I’ll send you a bill for the 11 holes that you put in my barn with a 30-06.”
“Are you through?” he faintly asks.
“We’ve got to get a fire started. Where’s your ax?” I inquire. “What?”

“Well, a chainsaw will do. We need some firewood. How about that oak over there? And since you don’t have a barbeque pit, we’ll have to dig a fire pit.” I turn to my wife, “Dear, would you run back to the. car and get the shovel? And see if I left the ax in the trunk.”
“Now see here,” Slick says, reddening. “I’m getting...
I rudely interrupt again. “Hey what happened to your chainsaw anyway, Slick? I know you have one.” He glares at me. “Aw come on, Slick, you remember last November. After you left, I found three little pine trees missing from my windbreak. By the way did you have a good Christmas?”
My wife returns with the shovel and a small hatchet. She speaks to Slick first. “I think you’d better get over to the neighbors right away,” she says. “Your dog is over there and there’s a little boy crying and well, I don’t think it’s a big bite, but his mother went into hysterics and started screaming. I couldn’t make it all out, but one of the words sounded like lawsuit or lawyer or something like that.”
“Oh my gosh,” Slick yells. We watch him dart across the yard. My wife shakes her head. “Most definitely a Type A.”

Slick shows up about two hours later, just as we finish supper. “Aw shoot,” I say. “I didn’t know you’d be back so soon, Slick. We could have saved you a bite to eat.”
“I want you people off my property now.” he says in quivering anger, “or I’m calling the police.”
“Well, you can if you want to Slick, but you’d probably be wasting your time. I’ve called the sheriff just
about every time you’ve been out to my place, but he just sighs and says there isn’t a whole lot he can do.”
“We’ll see about that.” He turns toward the house, then turns back toward us in hesitation. My wife starts to pick up the assorted garbage scattered around our picnic area.
I stop her. “Dear, I’m surprised at you. When we’re guests at someone else’s home, we’re supposed to follow their customs.” She looks puzzled. “Don’t you remember how Slick and his friends always leave us some nice souvenirs like empty beer cans and spent shell casings whenever they come to visit? When in Rome...”
She smiles sheepishly, then turns to Slick. “I don’t mean to be impolite.”
The muscles in his neck tighten. “Just get!” he yells.

“You’re right, Slick,” I say. “It’s been a long day, and we’ve got a long walk back to the car - and that fence of yours to climb.” I turn to my wife, “By the way dear, did you bring those wire cutters? That’s another trick I learned from our buddy Slick here.”
“Get out!” he screams.
I hold out my hand. “We’re going, but let me thank you for the wonderful day. We’ll get together more often.”
“I know,” my wife says, “every-time Slick and his buddies come out to our farm on the weekend, we can return the favor and come back here sometime during the week.”
“Get out!” Slick repeats. “You’ll never see out there again.” And then his babbling becomes incoherent.
The last we see him, he is galloping down the street, snorting like a buck in the rutting season.
--Ken
 

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I love it.. :lol:
 

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:lol: :lol: :lol: :lol: Great story, paybacks are a b***h.
 

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:lol: :lol: :lol: Thats a good one..
 

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PS KEN<< Love the web page too. beautiful country.... I need another wrangler. but have to pay off the libby first.. its very capable but its the wifes.. so it don't go off road too much.. Like you I love the out exploring .. haven't been able to do it for years. but sure would like back into it again.. I had three CJ's... I do miss them.. Love to have a new Rubicon now. :D
 

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really enjoyed the story, great thought, but I would have to point
out to some that may not understand it, Don't even consider doing
this in real life. 99% of the time it will end in extreme violence.
And if that isn't enough for ya, should he call the law... you will
be arrested.

I'm not saying its right. I certainly would love to see that scenario
played out, but it don't work that way.
 

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Bytor you may be right .. but don't put nothing past us eastern ********.. we have done stranger things.. .. :lol:
 
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That's a heck of a good post. I, too have and will show it around.

GJ - I think I'd pay real money to see you pull this skit of someone. I don't know if you'ld be that polite though. I think it would have ended on your part with a well-placed lead slug in the first beer can that landed on your property and an aggressive, "Get the FUHK off my property right the fuhk now!" and that would be pretty much the end of it. I can't see those types of shit heads getting away with as much with you... I could be wrong, but I doubt it.

Sweetman
 

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Gunjunkie said:
Bytor you may be right .. but don't put nothing past us eastern ********.. we have done stranger things.. .. :lol:
We DON'T want to go there. :wink:

Dave 8)
 

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Hey... Don't get me wrong guys..... I agree with the story. I would
love to see that type of scenario played out. But I think of the reality
of it. example.... If my son (who damn sure better know better than
to do what that idiot did) tresspassed with his vehicle, killed animals,
littered and just plain dinked around someones elses property. If a group,
family, whatever came to my place because he spotted my kids vehicle
and did that...... I don't care if your a *******, Asian, Hispanic, caucasion,
or what ever, If a group figured they would take there "play" to
my place thinking its my kids property, I ain't gonna be acting like
the dufass guy in the story. As I'm sure a very small percentage would.
It would quickly develop into a very bad situation. But as a thoughtful
story, Yea it would be great. HEll, we just had 5-6 hunters killed
over a damn tree stand in Wisconsin!!! I don't know the mentality of all members on
this board. I would hope noone would take this story literally.
 

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Even if its fantasy.. It needs to be done... People have changed.. I am sure most on this board would be respectful of others property.. I know some are for a fact.. Spending a week a year with about 20 + of them.. and leaving the campground as nice or nicer than it was when we showed.... I can tell you something about ********.. we may be the scum of the earth in the eyes of the elite.. but we have respect for others propertity and others in general.. :D

Sweetman ,, your right.. I have lo tolerance for somethings.. Littering is one of them.. Its a insult to Mother Nature I take it personal.. I am not able to chase them. so I would do the next best thing... :D


That story in WI was not the first time that person had fired on others.. But thats a whole different argument.. and not gettin into it here ..

:lol: :lol: :lol: :lol:
 

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That is a great story that pretty much highlights most of a land owner's complaints. Between my In-laws and myself we own around 2100 acres in Eastern Oklahoma where we have been managing our whitetail herd for the past 5 years with the help of Oklahoma's DMAP program. I have picked up several large trash sacks of trash and fought a couple fires that actually did more good on this mountain land than it did bad. I have receipts for the first year I owned this property for locks for my back gate that total approx $400.00 from people cutting their way in. My property is several dirt road miles away from any paved road and it is pretty secluded. I have removed trespassers who wandered in unknowingly, always politely on my end, always with a gun in in or near my hand. I am not sure of the rights in Wisconsin or any of the other states in our country, but in Oklahoma, on my property I am allowed to carry a firearm anytime I want and when facing a trespasser I want to be armed.

Part of my raising was respecting other peoples' land and obtaining permission before hunting. It should be the part of every hunter's teaching, but there are a lot of people out their under the guise of hunter that puts a black mark on our favorite sport. One of the most important thing you can do is to take a kid hunting and show him how to do it right with respect for others and the animals we hunt.

Outlander2
 
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