When I was younger, my Uncle Bob and I were looking for a place to hunt. We found a farm with a lot of uncleared woods alongside, so I said "Bob, why don't we ask that farmer if we can hunt on his land?"
Bob said "Naw, farmers hereabouts don't cotton to no hunt'n on their land, he'll just cuss you out."
Well, being young and naive, I said "Uncle Bob, just stop the truck, I'll go knock on his door and ask him."
Uncle Bob reluctantly obliged.
So I went up to the farmhouse, and saw there was some livestock in the pasture alongside, including some cattle and a sickly looking old nag of a horse.
I knocked on the door, and when the farmer opened it I introduced myself and asked if my Uncle Bob and I might hunt his land . . .
Farmer gave me a funny look, and after a little chit-chat he allowed as it would be OK for us to hunt, provided we did him a favor . . . his sickly old horse needed to be put down, the vet was out of town, and since he didn't have the heart to kill Ol' Dobbin himself, he asked me to do it - if it was quick and painless Uncle Bob and I could hunt his land all season.
Well, I'm no horse killer, but I - reluctantly - agreed.
Well, now as I'm going back to the truck for my rifle, there's old Uncle Bob, laughing his fool head off - "Told ya it was wastin' your time! What did he say?"
Well, I figure I'm going to teach Uncle Bob a lesson. "That miserable old coot cussed me out good."
I reached into the back, took out my rifle, and started loading it.
Bob said "Hey, you can't kill a man for cussing you out!"
I said "It ain't him I'm going to shoot - I'm going to kill his %$#! horse!"
So I stepped around to the side so I could draw a bead on Ol' Dobbin, put the crosshairs between his eyes, and touched off my .30/06.
Ol' Dobbin fell like a ton of bricks.
BANG! BANG! from behind me - there's Uncle Bob, jumping back in the truck with his rifle, saying "And I got two of his cows - let's get the h*** out of here!"