Last Friday night we were attacked by a suicide-attack deer as we were driving the Prius, our car from the future. It was after 9PM, when most respectable deer are home from work, bouncing their fawning offspring on their numerous knees. The one who attacked us was evidently crouching behind a bush, awaiting our approach on a dark country road in Maryland. It certainly seemed that he knew we were coming, which makes me suspect that he was tipped off by someone like Tommy (Pretty Boy) Humphrey. Since I don’t know anyone like Pretty Boy, it was probably him.
The incident had all the earmarks of a domestic attack. [You’ll be pleased to know that although I toyed with replacing earmarks with deer-marks in the previous sentence, I refrained, perceiving that the humor potential was too low and the groan potential too high.]
a) Deer Abby
b) Roe Yerboat
c) Buck Stopshere
d) Doe Rehmie
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