Stan and Harry were processing deer, after hours. Stan worked the saw and Harry worked the knife. Stan walked in from the truck outside carrying a skinned deer. He plopped it on the saw. “Oh,” he said, “this one’s got corn in the ass.” Harry leaned over to take a peek.

Stan cut the hind legs from the front legs. He cut the front quarter in half and cut the ribs away and set them on the cutting table. Harry began working the meat off of the front legs with speed and precision. Venison meat is lean and often as dull in color as it is in flavor, a dark burgundy.

Harry put down his knife and went into the office. He took off the plastic gloves he was wearing. He pulled out a fifth of whiskey from the desk drawer. He poured a few glugs in a plastic cup and then poured cola in it. “You want a Jack and coke bro?” he asked. “No I’m good.”

Harry walked back to the cutting table, sipping his drink. “This outta take the edge off,” he said. He set his drink down, put the gloves back on, picked his knife up and began carving again. Stan threw some deer ribs in the trash barrel. Harry threw a front leg in.

“Do you think,” said Stan, “that if we were hunted and killed and someone had to process us that they would find corn in our assholes?”

“Well that depends,” Harry took another sip of his drink and said, “on whether or not we ate corn recently.”

“I haven’t had corn in a while,” said Stan, while turning on the saw. The saw buzzed as he cut the hind legs in half. He began cutting them into steaks.

Harry’s cell phone rang. He took off the gloves again and took his phone from his pocket. “Hello,” he said. Stan turned off the saw. He went into the office, and took off his gloves. He lit a cigarette and took a long drag off it.

“Yeah,” Harry said. “Well you know, kids do things, you gotta take control of it.” He paced in and out of the office. “I see what you’re saying,” he said. “But maybe it might be good for him. Otherwise he’ll just have to learn things the hard way.”

Stan used his free hand and made a fist with it. He moved his hand back and forth from his mouth and away while he pushed his tongue into the opposite cheek, miming a blowjob. Harry laughed as he paced away. “I gotta go,” he said, “Yeah I’m doing deer.” He hung up his phone and took a big pull off his cocktail.

“Who was that?” asked Stan.

“Becky.”

“Oh shit, somebody’s getting some poo-say!”

“Eh. No bro I’m through with that.”

“And why is this?”

“Wants to get married… and I’m never getting married again.”

“Can’t just fuck her?” Stan asked.

“No.”

Stan put his cigarette out. Harry took another sip of his drink before setting it down. They both put their gloves on and stood in front of the cutting board.

“What was she bitching about this time?”

“Her kids, what else?”

Stan turned on the saw and finished cutting the steaks. He turned the saw off. They were both cutting away at the table.

“Do you think?” Stan said, “That if someone fucked a deer and it got pregnant that the baby would have antlers?”

“No, why would someone fuck a deer?”

“I dunno maybe their only other option is Becky.”

Harry threw a nearly bare hind leg in the trash. Stan threw a leg in as well. “Barrel’s full,” said Stan. He grabbed one side of the trash barrel and dragged it out. Harry followed. Outside they each took a handle and carried it to the dumpster. On the count of three they held it over the side as its bloody contents spilled out. Thump, gurgly, thump, gurgly, thump it went until it was empty.

“Nothing like the sound of carcasses dropping,” said Harry.