Three Bucks

That’s it. I’ve decided to become a cyborg.

You know the Shakespeare quote (or was it Happy Tree Friends?) that goes, “Oh that this too too solid flesh would melt”?

Well mine did.


Some months back I had to take a break from blogging because I needed reconstructive elbow surgery. Now I need it again, on the other elbow.

Cyborg, I’m tellin’ ya. I want fancy shiny metal 3-D printed laser cannon fitted artificial body parts. That don’t need surgery.


Let’s get you up to speed here: around 2 years ago my right elbow started screaming at me. I went to the doc and said “Am I jerking off too much? My elbow hurts.” “Probably” he said. “And I wish you’d at least stop while I’m trying to examine you.

He did the exam, stuffed me in an MRI, waved his magical caduceus, and said, “You problem is not, and this is hard to believe, an over-use injury. You’ve got a slight deformation at the end of one arm bone that is rubbing away important stuff like muscles and connecting tissue. I’m going to send you to physical therapy, but if that doesn’t work I’m gonna have to cut you open and take a Dremel to that bone.

So for the next 2 months I went to physical therapy and got stretched and massaged and electrocuted. And during that time I was also advised to not lift anything, pour anything (seriously), type anything, or yank anything with that arm. I had to switch to Miss Lefty for release (took some getting used to, but I managed…somehow….).

After two months – surprise surprise – there was absolutely no change to my wonky anatomical structure. I went under the knife, spent the next month in a cast, and everything’s been honky dory ever since. Back to Miss Righty. God I missed her.

Then in February, a few days after my last entry, I went to pour myself another glass of cooking sherry and my left elbow reared back and kicked me square in the nuts. I dropped to my knees and let out a squeal like one of those mice in a squish video. NewWifey(tm) immediately sprang into action. She drank my sherry.

Back to the doctor. Another MRI, another two months of stretch-massage-shock. And another two months of staying away from keyboards. At least I didn’t have to swap out Miss Righty this time.

The result?

Same as last time: fuck-all.

I gotta go back under the knife. No firm date set yet, but it’ll probably be sometime soon. That means another month off from work while I sit with my arm bolted in a 90-degree angle cast, then 2 more months of rehab, then 3 months of girly-arm, then…winter. My whole year, shot. No riding, no metal detecting, no golf, no nuthin’. Well, blow jobs. But I won’t be able to hold her head still. Shit. Hardly seems worth it.

I wanted to throw all that out there in case you were wondering where the hell I’d gone. Other than for work and a few personal e-mails, I wasn’t allowed anywhere near a keyboard. My apologies to anyone who left me a note and I didn’t respond.

Ok, now that we’re caught up on the backstory, here’s today’s ACTUAL entry. I figure I might as well type away now, since rehab did nothing and I’ll be getting the surgery regardless. How much more damage can I do?

Er…but it’s going to be far, far shorter than I originally intended. My left elbow really is starting to pin the Pain Meter just from the little bit I’ve written so far. It’s pretty amazing that the lifting and dropping of a single finger against a letter key can trigger violent waves of paroxysms all along the bungee cord that apparently connects wrist to toenail.

The brief and sadly un-embellished version:

I hit not one, but TWO deer on my way to work the other night. I was buzzing along down a long hill that wends through a particularly dense stretch of trees, Hatsune Miku blasting on the 8-track. At the beginning of a sweeping left turn my headlights lit up 6 perfectly round eyeballs just off to my right. Instantly – and I mean, without even enough time to even form a thought about it – “BAM!” “BAMTHUD!!”


All I knew was that one second I was bopping along to “Levan Polka”, the next I was frantically trying to see through a spray of deer blood being jettisoned across my windshield.

It was all over in a second, but it sure felt longer than that as it went down. I pulled over to assess the damage.

Here’s the best I can figure what happened. There were three deer, all young bucks, over on the side of the road. They were jerks. All young bucks are. They were full of themselves because their antlers were coming in and they were badass now. Winter was over so all the does in the neighborhood would be losing their heavy outercoats and showing off their 16 nipples.

Holy crap my arm hurts. That was fun, but I gotta tighten this up. Just know that they were punk-ass jerks.

So the three bucks jumped out simultaneously within a heartbeat of me seeing them. I had no time to react at all. At all. They were all three in a line; the first one leaped right in front of my car, and I basically cut it in half. The second one slammed head first into my passenger side door – I just caught a glimpse of the side of his face, mouth wide open, smooshed up against the window before it bounced off and down onto the road. The third one – probably the fat buddy that neither of the others liked but they let him hang with them anyway because he’d be the first one the bear would go after – was a little slower to react, and passed behind my car safely. Too bad.

The scene was one of incredible carnage. There was blood and fur all over the place, and four lifeless, accusing eyes staring up at me from two bashed in skulls 25 feet apart.

Amazingly (or maybe not, if you’re familiar with the brand) my little Subaru Forester barely registered the hits. There is one small dent in the front left quarter panel where a set of horns swung around and nailed it, but otherwise, nada. Incredible.

That being the case, spectacular as the incident was I still had to get to work. I toyed briefly with loading up at least the haunch of the deer I’d rent asunder (venison stew…venison fricassee….stir fried venison and snow peas…venison risotto….), but decided an unrefrigerated Subaru was not the best holding device for raw meat over a 10 hour stretch before I got home again. Besides, there was pee all over it. That takes a wife to clean off, and she was miles away. So I just saddled back up and went to work, meatless.

The only other thing of note: almost every night since, I’ve seen a lone deer standing in the same spot as I go to work. I know it’s the slow nerd deer who missed me. I like to think he’s just a dumb animal who is bound by habit and territory restrictions, and shows up there night after night because he’s programmed to. Not that he’s plotting his revenge. But you never know.

Woof. Ok, this is absolutely the breaking point for my arm. Sorry. Gotta wrap it up.

Oh – just one other thing. A relevant joke!

What’s the difference between beer nuts and deer nuts?
Beer nuts are a dollar twenty nine. Deer nuts are under a buck.

Although you can find 4 of them for free scattered across Canistear Road if you hurry. Mmmmm….fresh deer nuts….

Ciao, kids. Drive carefully. It could cost you a lot of doe.








14 thoughts on “Three Bucks

  1. Darn – sorry to hear about the bum elbows. Couldn’t happen to a less deserving bum. Get well soon!

    As to the kamikaze deer, you did your best, but two out of three still ain’t bad.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Wow! You are back! I went out to the east coast looking for you. You blend in well with the landscape. So sorry to hear about your arm bone. You probably did that damage playing the flute at such a young age. I hope you heal up soon so I can venture back to the east coast and actually find you. Sorry about the deer. It’s never fun being involved in something like that – even when the bucks were being buckish.


    1. Arm or no arm, I still would have driven up to Maine if you would have consented to eating at least one goddam lobster roll. And it WASN’T FROM PLAYING THE FLUTE! That’s not a manly enough excuse for me to acknowledge. Masturbation, I tell you.


  3. Two out of three ain’t bad dude and bonus, your car is OK. That doesn’t often happen when taking out only one deer much less two in one shot.
    I was behind a car last year, middle of the day, and a deer comes flying (so fast it didn’t have time to hit the ground with it’s hooves) from the opposite side of the road and it bounced off the driver side door of the car in front of me. The impact was such that the X-deer flew back across the state road and kept going down the shoulder. Amazing site, I can only imagine there was a predator somewhere in the farm fields it had come out of. The car/victim of the deer had considerable damage to the driver’s side. It was not a Subaru
    Bummer about the arm thing. Perhaps don’t do things in twos any more…..


  4. SO sorry to learn about your elbows. My younger son had one reconstructed and the surgery is difficult and the rehab exquisitely painful. I wish you well in recovery And I wish New Wifey a trip to visit friends in Seattle while it all takes place. As for the deer…well, be grateful you did hot tangle with a bull bison. In Yellowstone a few years ago I saw a car in a parking lot that had lost an argument with a big bull that had taken exception to the cut of its jib and head-butted it hard 3 times while the passengers were strolling off to see some mud pots. That car was a large sedan and it was destroyed. Front driver side wheel lying ominously horizontal, rearview mirror on the ground, all driver side windows shattered and entire length of the car completely “stove-in”. A nice tourist wrote a note so they would know what had happened…but how do you explain that to the guy from the Auto Club?


    1. HAHA! Although I have to say, it would have been WAY cool if I’d plowed into a buffalo here in NJ. I could have been IN the news for once, instead of reporting on it!


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