My dad made me do hunter safety so I could hunt with him. Again, I didn't even want to. It was at some old nasty vw/vd (don't know what it's called. Where veterans go to hangout and eat/drink/smoke/etc. OMG, it was so smokie in there. I smelt like an ashtray for weeks. All for some piece of paper that says I can kill a turkey, cause I clipped him on his wing and he drowned in the creek, cause he couldn't fly, and then I retired.
