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1horns of the Avenger

1horns of the Avenger

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Published by wordweaver
Revenge comes in many forms, in this world and the next, and sometimes half way in between.
Revenge comes in many forms, in this world and the next, and sometimes half way in between.

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Published by: wordweaver on Jan 26, 2010
Copyright:Attribution Non-commercial


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Keith Sorenson, uncomfortably sweating from thehot September sun in his rubberized all-weathercamouflaged ‘jungle bunny’ suit, dismounted from hishighchair like hunter’s perch overlooking the west slopeof Arsenal Mound. While clumsily shedding the bulkyoverall, he saw a white monster that seemingly stopped,and stared at him before vanishing in the uphillundergrowth. It looked very much like a white buffalo,and a mind boggling trophy in Minnesota, or anywhere inthe modern world. Sorenson, a dedicated hunter always insearch of something rarer or larger than recorded in therecord books, exulted in that opportunity withoutquestioning the improbability of such a miracle find.As a contracted wildlife hunter for the state ofMinnesota, Keith did not have the need of a huntinglicense, or bear any license restrictions. He could easilysay he thought it an albino deer, and deer of any color, hewas hired to shoot.By time Keith was free of the confining outergarment, his trophy prey was rustling the woodland brushthat tangled all of the open space between the oaks andpoplars and it appeared to be moving toward him. Keithdropped to one knee, assuming the classic kneelingposition of competitive shooters. His scope focused onthe patch of bare sand, where a new gravel-test ditchprovided a good shoot, should the buffalo continueforward. The rustling of undergrowth stopped, and Keithcould see a white blob just barely inside the brush andless than fifty yards away.Keith zeroed in and fired twice. The white mass didnot move, so he fired three more times, dead on butnothing moved. Holding the gun at ready, he startedtoward his target; sure the high-powered shells were allon target and had blown away all chance of life in the
beast. Ten yards away, Keith saw the white mass quiver,and then the brush exploded, and Keith was knocked downand trampled into a bloody mass.CHAPTER TWO"..and she goes, like I can't give you, like a coolgrade, you know, because you don't like talk English," soI
m like, “This is like America and hey, like I speakAmerican, you know what I’m saying, so then I goes, youdon't need that Shakespeare stuff, you know. So I liketells her good, you know, so she gives me like a D minus,So how do I make like an anything college? Like, howcome a D, effing minus, anyway...Right. Like she
s sofriggin bright. Damned straight, she don
t know like fine.Bob Lowe wanted to say, "How charitable, hergrading," but since earlier admitting that he taughtEnglish, Lowe chose to suggest, "Hey like, maybe, shethought you over-used similes". He knew her next wordswould be, "Like, Hey, what's a simile?" So he continuedruefully, "In Detroit inner city schools on curve grading, you would probably get an A minus.
 His seat companion babbled on but he shut herout to concentrate on why he had walked out of hisclassroom and embarked on this wild trip to far offMinnesota precipitated by a wildly provocative storyin a Minnesota weekly newspaper that some unknownperson had clipped and sent his way. Apparently, thenewspaper desperately needed a competent editor,like himself, and he was certain an intriguingmystery lurked behind the story.Bob's callow seat mate, eyes closed, now feigningsleep, was probably insulted by his automatic nods andhalf-conscious and likely sarcastic non sequiturs. Good!He retrieved from his billfold the clipping that hadtriggered his sudden, and self-surprising, withdrawal
from a hard-earned steady job as an English teacher, andread it again:
Did Dear Do-in Deer Hunter? Dynamic Powders, publicity-buffeted operator of the United States Government's Newberg Arsenal,suffered another setback in its controversial deer eradication program when, Keith Sorenson, Minnesota's only licensed bounty hunter, was found, apparently trampled to death, by his fiancée, Fay Comfrey. Fay was bringing him lunch, early Wednesday forenoon, so he would not need to pass the gauntlet of angry protestors who gathered there to protest his cruelty to animals, or demand an equal opportunity at deer eradication. Arsenal neighbors had counted and recorded his rifle shots and recognized he either was a very poor shot or was testing Dynamic’s ammunition 
s killing power as he fired five times more shots than his reported deer destroyed.The herd of deer, which has grown to over three- hundred, is not content to browse only the four-hundred wooded acres of the Arsenal, but are jumping, with ease to browse on neighboring gardens, over the twelve foot fence encircling the Newberg Arsenal and Arms plant.The excluded Twin city deer hunters are seething and demand to be included in fun and the final solution.They want a drawing or lottery for the hunting privilege but Dynamic Powders insists the eradicator must be one solitary hunter shooting from a fixed location and into a focused firing area to eliminate the possibility of accidentally igniting lost and stored rocket and mortar shells. On that fatal morning, jealous hunters picketed the main gate, competing for attention, with pickets from several animal rights groups.Sorenson's body, accompanied by his grieving fiancee, was hurriedly sent to the country coroner, Dr.

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