Nice Rack

At 4:30 AM my brother stumbles out of the cabin and into the crisp thirty-degree morning. Today is the opener for deer season, and he's taken off work just for this occasion. He will be spending the next three days back at the cabin with his closest friends. They will grill chicken and eat venison jerky that was made from a deer one of his friends found on the side of the road.

My brother waits and waits and waits. He doesn't see any deer. Near lunch time, he thinks he hears a deer snort but he doesn't have a clear visual, so he doesn't shoot. My brother waits and waits and waits some more. Finally, at At 4:30 PM, he drives up to our house and comes in to stand in the doorway to my room. He sniffs his armpits.

"I need a shower," he says. "I can't stand myself."

"Knock yourself out," I say.

After he comes out of the shower he is crisp and clean. He no longer smells like gangrene. He is wearing jeans and a t-shirt that has a giant picture of a buck on it. Underneath the buck is the phrase NICE RACK.

"That's pretty classy," I say.

"I thought it was appropriate for today," he says.

"Are you going out wearing that?" I ask.

He nods. "A couple of girls are coming over, yeah."

That's when he bends over and farts--extravagantly and loudly. He straightens back up and stretches.

"Don't do that in front of the girls," I say. "Girls don't like that kind of behavior."

He shrugs his shoulders. "Ah, I do it all the time," he says. "It gets them hot."