I have a pair of sneakers that are my mowing sneakers. Completely stained green and having had a variety of insect and small animals call them home over the years, they sit year-round under the bench on my front porch waiting to be called into action in the spring and summer months.
That is a until few days ago.
When I was leaving the house one snowy morning my mowing sneakers were sitting in the middle of the yard.
That was not the most disturbing thing.
All around the perimeter were deer footprints. Hundreds of hoof prints which meant that there must have been a dozen or more deer in a giant circle around my yard.
In the middle there were a single set of deer prints and a single set of prints left from my sneakers and the evidence suggested all of the tracks originated from the same deer.
It became obvious that a deer had put on my shoes and was traipsing around the yard.
What soon became even obviouser was that this fucking deer was mocking me. Walking around imitating me to the amusement of his deer brethren.
(Picture it. Otherwise this tale is all for naught)
This suspicion confirmed the following evening when I was driving home. Typically as I pull into the neighborhood there will be a few deer scattered around and they will hightail it into the woods at the first glimpse of a car.
Not so with these deer.
They all sat staring at me. As I slowed down to get a better look I could swear they were smirking at me.
Then I heard it. The sound of a fawn laughing.
Let me assure you, you do not know the meaning of the word disquieting until you’ve heard a fawn laughing at you.
(/disˈkwīədiNG/ – inducing feelings of anxiety or worry… just in case you really don’t know the meaning of the word)
Soon they all began chortling and started to approach the car. I did not wait around to see what mischief they had in mind. I applied the gas with all gusto.
When I arrived home my sneakers were gone.
No doubt the success of his first performance inspired the deer to take his act on the road. For a moment I thought about following the tracks that led off down the street and hunting down my insensitive Cervidae nemesis to nip this little production in the bud, but thought better of it.
You can never tell how much biting there is involved in satire.