Here's the story:
We were throwing a party at a friend's camp. We had a half barrel of beer, plenty of smoke and a whole harem of fly honeys coming to hang out.
My buddy and I were tasked with bringing meat.
We cruised around until we saw a fat doe standing in a field. I thwacked her with a broadhead low and rear. She ran for about 100 yds and fell down. My partner then put 5 .22 rounds in her head. We thought it was over, and started dragging.
Friggin doe came to life and went ape toejame.
I stuck her in the neck.
Covered my favorite jeans in blood.
It was the lowest point in my life. Very few people knew that story until now.
We quartered her out, took the straps and neck roast. Left the head, guts and hide for the predators.
We cooked her over an open fire, got drunk, stoned and laid.
I'm ashamed of myself to this day.
EDIT: Hunting is a sacred tradition, passed down through generations of my family. I broke that bond the day I did that.
EDIT: Dammit, I'm so ashamed I could cry right now.
EDIT: My opinion means nothing. I have no more to say on this matter.