I was listening to NPR news in the parking lot this morning, when a pickup pulled into the lot, and stopped back at the edge of the asphalt, where the driver could look out over a fence at the nearby fields and woods. He sat there for a few minutes, so I got out to see what he was doing. He started to roll away when I came into view, but stopped when I glared at him. I told him that there's no hunting on private property, and he quickly denied that he had been thinking of any such thing. I looked down, and he had a rifle sitting precariously on the seat next to him. Riiight. He peeled out of there, as I pondered whether he was planning on firing on deer from the cab of his goddamn pickup.
Hunting season in Central Pennsylvania, folks.
Monday, December 01, 2003
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