Smoke
Member
Ever had a guy show up to hunt whose drop from the gene pool was probably some stinky stagnant swamp water?
Todd showed up at the invitation of Tom's brother (the lawyer). HE arrived bearing a case of Bacardi as a gift for the lawyer that had gotten him out of a bit of trouble. Granted I didn't hear all the details of the case but gathered enough information to confidently decide I'd start hating this guy right off.
As the day wore on, my first impression proved once again to be dead on...Todd was loud, boisterous, obnoxious and what people in this country commonly refer to as an idiot.
I had more than enough of him by the time we headed to the windmill for the afternoon dove missing session. I was driving my Jeep and Cody volunteered to ride with me. Apparently my feelings about Todd were contagious as everyone quickly loaded into the pickups and "there's just not enough room" for Todd. Todd gets in the back of my Jeep. Dang.
I decided to wait until all the other trucks had pulled out and we brought up the rear of the convoy. The windmill chosen for this day's hunt is half way across the ranch. Halfway across this ranch means 25 miles of dry Far-West-Texas caliche roads in September. By the time we arrived Todd was cussing me and my blankety-blank Jeep for all he was worth. Covered in dust, his eyes were burning, he couldn't breathe, his lips were chapped and he was digging boogers out of his nose the size of tupas. His demeanor hadn't improved with the ride.
He pulls out as nice an example of a O/U double gun as I've seen in a Ward County mesquite thicket and boasts to everyone about how much it costs, and how much better it is than the "low grade Browning guns you boys are carrying"
As the birds start to fly, he pulls out as nice an example of excuses I've seen in any dove field in the state. The sun, the wind, the cows, the left over dust from the Jeep ride, the heat, the birds themselves, his position, other peoples proximity or lack there of, his ammo, the brand of beer he drank back at the house, everything is aligned wrong with the moon and stars, all of this is affecting his shooting...he usually never misses...he told me so himself. The only thing not mentioned was his perfect firearm or his ability...nothing could possibly be wrong there.
Now the birds were so thick a blind man could have limited out with a single box of shells by just randomly shooting in the air...but not Todd. As the sun goes down Todd has quite a pile of empty boxes around him and two birds....he shot another one but it fell in the tank and the turtles ate it. (that part is true)
I vowed he was not riding back with me...Todd vowed the same thing. I load my gear and Cody hops in we swing by Tom's truck where I had loaded a very large cooler plum full of Iced Tea, bottled water, Dr. Peppers and a few barley pops (for medicinal purposes) I grabbed a beer for me and Cody and we head out in the lead of the convoy to escape the dust.
When we stopped to open the last gate before we hit the house, I just pulled over and let all the other trucks go through. That's when I saw Todd, perched on my cooler in the back of Tom's truck, at the back of the line of pickups. I silently grinned. Tom stopped the truck and I signaled that we'd close the gate and he could go on. Todd yelled at Tom to "Go ahead and go, that @#%&* in the Jeep has got the gate". Tom doesn't like being yelled at, especially on his ranch by an ungrateful guest not showing proper respect for his friends. Tom gassed the truck. Hard. Todd and the cooler fly out the back of the pickup and lands unceremoniously on the hard packed gravel road.
The cooler breaks from the impact and the contents are scattered everywhere. Todd has abruptly discovered that there is suddenly no air in all of West Texas. He gasping, rolling around, trying to sit up, and looking at all the places that used to have skin but now are covered only with white dust and bits of imbedded gravel and slowly starting to burn.
I hollered at Tom "Dang it Tom! You busted my cooler"
Tom exits the vehicle and observes the carnage. He shakes his head and says "I shore didn't mean to go and bust up yore cooler. Todd must have kicked it out. You better clean that up Todd, Smoke gets mean when he doesn't have a cold Dr. Pepper" Then gets in his truck and drives off.
I was laughing hysterically. Cody had spewed beer all over the inside of my windshield. I drove on up to the house and about an hour later Todd wearily walks up to the house, all my drinks are in the cooler with the busted lid, and he's dragging it behind him by the one remaining handle.
I never saw Todd again. They said he had gone in and taken a shower, then went out and got into his pickup and left....darned peculiar behavior since it was only the first day of the three day opening weekend of Dove season.
Darned peculiar.
Smoke
Todd showed up at the invitation of Tom's brother (the lawyer). HE arrived bearing a case of Bacardi as a gift for the lawyer that had gotten him out of a bit of trouble. Granted I didn't hear all the details of the case but gathered enough information to confidently decide I'd start hating this guy right off.
As the day wore on, my first impression proved once again to be dead on...Todd was loud, boisterous, obnoxious and what people in this country commonly refer to as an idiot.
I had more than enough of him by the time we headed to the windmill for the afternoon dove missing session. I was driving my Jeep and Cody volunteered to ride with me. Apparently my feelings about Todd were contagious as everyone quickly loaded into the pickups and "there's just not enough room" for Todd. Todd gets in the back of my Jeep. Dang.
I decided to wait until all the other trucks had pulled out and we brought up the rear of the convoy. The windmill chosen for this day's hunt is half way across the ranch. Halfway across this ranch means 25 miles of dry Far-West-Texas caliche roads in September. By the time we arrived Todd was cussing me and my blankety-blank Jeep for all he was worth. Covered in dust, his eyes were burning, he couldn't breathe, his lips were chapped and he was digging boogers out of his nose the size of tupas. His demeanor hadn't improved with the ride.
He pulls out as nice an example of a O/U double gun as I've seen in a Ward County mesquite thicket and boasts to everyone about how much it costs, and how much better it is than the "low grade Browning guns you boys are carrying"
As the birds start to fly, he pulls out as nice an example of excuses I've seen in any dove field in the state. The sun, the wind, the cows, the left over dust from the Jeep ride, the heat, the birds themselves, his position, other peoples proximity or lack there of, his ammo, the brand of beer he drank back at the house, everything is aligned wrong with the moon and stars, all of this is affecting his shooting...he usually never misses...he told me so himself. The only thing not mentioned was his perfect firearm or his ability...nothing could possibly be wrong there.
Now the birds were so thick a blind man could have limited out with a single box of shells by just randomly shooting in the air...but not Todd. As the sun goes down Todd has quite a pile of empty boxes around him and two birds....he shot another one but it fell in the tank and the turtles ate it. (that part is true)
I vowed he was not riding back with me...Todd vowed the same thing. I load my gear and Cody hops in we swing by Tom's truck where I had loaded a very large cooler plum full of Iced Tea, bottled water, Dr. Peppers and a few barley pops (for medicinal purposes) I grabbed a beer for me and Cody and we head out in the lead of the convoy to escape the dust.
When we stopped to open the last gate before we hit the house, I just pulled over and let all the other trucks go through. That's when I saw Todd, perched on my cooler in the back of Tom's truck, at the back of the line of pickups. I silently grinned. Tom stopped the truck and I signaled that we'd close the gate and he could go on. Todd yelled at Tom to "Go ahead and go, that @#%&* in the Jeep has got the gate". Tom doesn't like being yelled at, especially on his ranch by an ungrateful guest not showing proper respect for his friends. Tom gassed the truck. Hard. Todd and the cooler fly out the back of the pickup and lands unceremoniously on the hard packed gravel road.
The cooler breaks from the impact and the contents are scattered everywhere. Todd has abruptly discovered that there is suddenly no air in all of West Texas. He gasping, rolling around, trying to sit up, and looking at all the places that used to have skin but now are covered only with white dust and bits of imbedded gravel and slowly starting to burn.
I hollered at Tom "Dang it Tom! You busted my cooler"
Tom exits the vehicle and observes the carnage. He shakes his head and says "I shore didn't mean to go and bust up yore cooler. Todd must have kicked it out. You better clean that up Todd, Smoke gets mean when he doesn't have a cold Dr. Pepper" Then gets in his truck and drives off.
I was laughing hysterically. Cody had spewed beer all over the inside of my windshield. I drove on up to the house and about an hour later Todd wearily walks up to the house, all my drinks are in the cooler with the busted lid, and he's dragging it behind him by the one remaining handle.
I never saw Todd again. They said he had gone in and taken a shower, then went out and got into his pickup and left....darned peculiar behavior since it was only the first day of the three day opening weekend of Dove season.
Darned peculiar.
Smoke
