Last dove season I was walking through some trees, minding my own. Juggling a 12 gauge and a 12 ounce when I almost stepped on this big nasty Diamondback. I dropped the beer and raised the gun. Then it was go time.
When the dust had settled, the snake was dead and I was freakin' out.
So I called it a day and got drunk by the fire. Then we skinned the bastard and grilled it with an italian dressing marinade. It was excellent.
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