It was dusk in the cool Autumn of South Georgia. Big Mike stopped by our trailer to buy some weed. Beaker didn’t have enough to sell, but we all got pretty stoned. Sippin’ on a cheap beer and shooting the shit with a couple of Statesboro local boys was how I liked to spend my evenings. This was back in the days when I had money for school, but not much else. I didn’t really fit in with the regular college crowd. Most of the guys I knew were caught up in the fraternity scene or just acted like blithering idiots.

However, I found out that the locals who went to Georgia Southern College had the place figured out. After all, they grew up in Bulloch County. Who would know it better? Anyway, I hung out with some wild ass South Georgia Boys.

After the .38 Special album finished side one, Big Mike swaggered up and shouted, “who wants to go rabbit hunting?� I was always game for a good hunt, so I replied, “let’s go!� We stumbumbled out the trailer door and climbed into Big Mike’s Ford F-150. Big Mike drove like a demon possessed, turning down this road, and that road, until the pavement ended.

Dirt roads are common in Bulloch County. The dirt ripples always poked a hole in my kidneys as we cruised over them. The red clay dust settled over the hood and windshield making it hard to see the on coming turns, especially at night. Suddenly Big Mike shouts out, “There’s one,� and jerks the speeding truck hard to the right. Duh Dum, and the truck skids to a stop. We hop out of the truck and examine the kill.

Now I ain’t ever hunted rabbit like that before. As I found out about a lot of things, South Georgia boys do things quite different than North Georgia boys. I think the altitude has something to do with it, or is that attitude. Anyhow, rabbit hunting for me was quite a production. Lanterns and .22 rifles and maybe a dog accompanied my North Georgia pals. I ain’t ever hunted with a 1978 Ford F-150 before.

So I’m standing over this rabbit lying in the red dust. I say, “Damn, you killed it before I even saw it.� Big Mike leans over and says, “Shit, he ain’t dead.� He reaches down and picks that rabbit up by the hind legs. With a huge arcing motion, Big Mike swings that rabbit high over his head, and then slaps that rabbit’s head into the dirt road like he was popping a punk ass kid in the ass with a beach towel.

Big Mike holds that rabbit up in the head lamps of the truck and says, “Now he’s dead, his eyes are open.� Then he tosses that dusty rabbit into the bed of the truck and says, “let’s get us a opossum.� Off we went, into the South Georgia night. Just Damn!