# Funny hunting/camping stories



## VarmitSniper (Apr 2, 2008)

Am I the only one who does things like this?
I was camping, and had just bore sighted my rifle and was putting it away in my rifle case so I could transport it. Well I got it shut and locked when I realized that the keys were still inside the case:help: and my friends are yelling ''hey hurry up, were ready to head up to the range''
It takes a long time to file through a Master Lock with a Leatherman.:stars:


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## Highground (Jan 22, 2003)

Nope, you ain't the only one.

We invited an old friend to come deer hunt with us about 10 years ago. He shows up late one evening with his spankin new Wetherby he was so excited about. The next morning he had to drive back home to get the key to the trigger lock.


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## Tom Bombadil (Mar 25, 2008)

There were a bunch of guys at my old job who had gone in together and gotten a deer hunting lodge. My buddy decided to join their club when he was invited. For months, he paid his dues. He bought a new 7mm mag deer rifle. One weekend a month he would go down all summer long to work on the place, get it ready, and practice with his rifle. Finally, it is opening day for hunting season. He puts the rifle in the truck and drives the 4 hour drive down to the lodge. The next morning he gets up and goes to load his rifle ... and finds that he left all the ammo at home.

The other guys lent him one round ... one.


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## big rockpile (Feb 24, 2003)

One time me and my boys were out fishing.We got too drunk to fish.So i'm laying in back of the Pickup.Look up and say to myself them Stars sure are moving fast as the Pickup rolls into the river. :doh:

Then one time me and my wife was out camping.A Thunderstorm comes up in the middle of the night.I'm running around the Tent tieing down the flaps,Nakid,lightning stricking all around.I knew I was going to get hit and die out there in the middle of nowhere nakid.DW said she would have coverd me up.:Bawling:

big rockpile


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## tyusclan (Jan 1, 2005)

When my oldest son (who is now 24) was about 5 I took him to his first dove shoot with me.

The year before at this same place (my uncle's farm) there were a lot of idiots there that my uncle didn't know about. He was out of town, and had told me I could take some friends in there to shoot. He was very upset when he got back and I told him what went on.

Anyway, this is the next year, and I don't if some of that same bunch is gonna be there or not, so I tell my son, "If you hear me say, 'Get down!', you get down quick. Don't ask me why. If you want to know why, I'll tell you later."

On the way to the field he asks me, "If you shoot a bird down, can I go get it?"

I said, "That's what I'm countin' on, son."

We get to the field and there aren't nearly as many people, and the ones that are there are sensible folks, so I breathed a little easier.

The first bird flew over, and I shot it.

I said, "Run get it, son."

He takes off toward the bird. When he gets about halfway to the bird, another couple of birds are coming, and I want to him to squat down so they won't see him as easily.

I yell, "Get down, son!"

He's still at a dead run heading to the dead bird, throws both arms out wide and dives head first to the ground! 

I'm laughing so hard I can't even raise the shotgun, so those two get away clean!


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## tn_junk (Nov 28, 2006)

Back many years ago Baker had a tree stand called the Mighty Might. Friend of mine bought one. Bought the size of a large postage stamp.
We were archery hunting one morning. Bought an hour after sun-up I hear him scream. I go running the 300 or so yards to where he was and find him standing on that little bitty tree stand, on one foot. Holding the other one. Finally worked his way down and showed me. There was a nice, broadhead, shaped hole thru one of his shoes. A doe had walked directly under ths stand and he had shot through the very end of his tennis shoe. Cut two of his toes pretty bad. Bought a dozen stiches if I remember. Missed the doe.
That ain't the worst part.
His wife had the tennis shoe mounted and gave it to him for Christmas that year. 

alan


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## VarmitSniper (Apr 2, 2008)

galump said:


> His wife had the tennis shoe mounted and gave it to him for Christmas that year.
> 
> alan


:rotfl:Oh thats hilarious! It remind me of my grandpa's first buck,he was all exited and comes over and tells us all about how he got it, so then I ask him if he is going have the head mounted, he gets kinda red and said ''uh well no, my first shot blew one of his antlers off''.


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## ninny (Dec 12, 2005)

galump said:


> Back many years ago Baker had a tree stand called the Mighty Might. Friend of mine bought one. Bought the size of a large postage stamp.
> We were archery hunting one morning. Bought an hour after sun-up I hear him scream. I go running the 300 or so yards to where he was and find him standing on that little bitty tree stand, on one foot. Holding the other one. Finally worked his way down and showed me. There was a nice, broadhead, shaped hole thru one of his shoes. A doe had walked directly under ths stand and he had shot through the very end of his tennis shoe. Cut two of his toes pretty bad. Bought a dozen stiches if I remember. Missed the doe.
> That ain't the worst part.
> His wife had the tennis shoe mounted and gave it to him for Christmas that year.
> ...



Hey, she could've cooked the darn thing and served it to him...

.


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## big rockpile (Feb 24, 2003)

Was camping one time with my Exwife and my Dad.Me and my Ex was sleeping outside Dad and Stepmom was sleeping in a Tent.

I woke up in the middle of the night to be looking face to face with a Skunk.I go over set by the Tent.Dad comes out,Whats up? Skunk over there.What about your wife.Should be ok she is not awake.Dad laughing,Man your brave.

Same wife she had a habit sleeping in.I went out one morning caught a ****,put it in a bag.Went in she is asleep.I raised the blankets,throw the **** in  She is standing up on the wall,the **** is up on its hind legs growling at her,me I was having a good time :icecream:

big rockpile


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## General Brown (Jan 10, 2008)

Oh thats good, Rock!! Perhaps that is why she is your EX wife?


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## EDDIE BUCK (Jul 17, 2005)

These two coonhunters I know, never used a compass, or the stars or any method of not getting lost other than cotton twine. They would tie one end to the truck and let the ball of twine unroll in their pocket until they got to the tree then they would break the string an tie to a tree then follow that string back to the truck then break and leave it there. They hunted for many years doing this. Anyway one of the guys father died and he had to stop hunting and stay with his elderly mother. The other guy asked me to hunt with him and I had before so I said yes. Anyway we still used the string. He had bought a new dog on trial and we had our other two dogs. Anyway the dogs treed and we started to them and that string was unravelling out of his pocket as we got to the tree he broke the string and tied it. We looked for a **** but it was a big holler tree and den tree. The new dog was not there and we followed the string back to the truck and about that time that new dog started treeing at the tree we just left. I told the other fellow I would go back a put a lease on the dog and bring him back to the truck. I followed the string back and got the dog and started looking for the string finally I found a string and started walking but something wasn't right the direction was wrong. I went back to the tree and got to looking and found FIVE different strings leading away from that tree. So I hollered until he answered then followed the string headed in his direction. I got to the truck and first thing I said was have you ever treed up that tree before? He said yes, 4 or 5 times. I said 5 because I found all them dang strings leading in every direction like a spider web. After that I always looked at the stars not ever letting on that the string was NOT our ONLY way out. lol Eddie


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## PhilJohnson (Dec 24, 2006)

One time I was with my brother and his friend in the County Forest hiking on top of a mound. I spotted a rather large porcupine up in a small pine tree. It was staring at us as we walked by. Then for what ever reason it decided to scurry down the tree and charged the three of us. We ran, not wanting to get stuck with any quills, and none of us felt like killing the ornery critter. It chased us for a good 40 feet before deciding to retreat down the mound. That is the only wild animal I have ever been chased by....... so far


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## Dquixote1217 (May 15, 2008)

I usually go camping with family and friends on every major warm weather holiday. And more often than not, when the family festivities are finished, go down to the cabin we built deep in the woods on the banks of the south Sulphur river on Thanksgiving, Xmas and New Years to camp out with just the guys. Some people call it hunting, but I call it "adult halloween", because we get all dressed up in our stealthy hunting outfits, then go build a blazing fire, cook up all kinds of tasty and smelly treats like chili and sausages and steaks and stews and buffalo wings and you name it, drink too much, play loud rock or country music, howl at the moon with the coyotes and pretty much run all the game animals off for miles around. The only things that gets killed usually are several twelve-packs of beer and more brain cells than I want to think about! But it's a male bonding annual ritual kind of thing that has gone on for about 30 years or so and we have lots of fun. Sometimes at the expense of one another. And sometimes fate steps in to lend a helping hand. Like the time I remember as "the revenge of the jalapena toilet paper".

You see, my cousin Jeff, who actually owns the land we camp on and who is a world class prankster so long as the prank isn't pulled on him, always liked to harass me and anyone else who happened to have the misfortune of needing to use the outdoor toilet whenever he is nearby. You never know when a firecracker or gun is going to go off just outside the little building or a horse apple get thrown into the side of the building with a loud BOOM, a lifelike snake get poked under the edge of the building, or the building suddenly shaken mightily accompanied by wild animal sounds. By accident, revenge came sweetly.

Les, my other cousin and Jeff's younger brother, and I were staying up one night way past our bedtime, and way past Jeff's bedtime too, and we were doing our mightiest to finish off the Crown Royal and Wild Turkey before they finished us off. Finally when I staggered over to the shelf outside the cabin with the last half of the bottle of Wild Turkey on it, I stumbled a bit and knocked over an open jar of jalapenas. By the time I could set the jar upright, the juice had already ran across the shelf and wicked into a roll of toilet paper that was setting out among our supplies. At first I thought, "Oh no, I've ruined a roll of toilet paper" because sometimes toilet paper can become a very valuable commodity deep in the woods. Especially if you've ever substituted leaves that turned out to be poison ivy . . . but that's another story.

While Les laughed and poked fun at me for being such a clumsy doofus, I remember thinking "Darn, if only it wasn't jalapena juice maybe the toilet paper could have dried out and still been serviceable in an emergency, but this roll is going to have to go", but then I quickly forgot about it in the bourbon haze. Now it just so happens that Jeff is always the first one up and his morning campout routine seldom varies. He wakes up, is sure to make enough noise banging stuff around and getting the coffee ready to wake everyone else up (because he figures that if he's awake, the rest of the world should be too) then he gets a cup of coffee, takes a dip of snuff, and soon heads for the wooden one-holer throne for a lengthy session. It's much the same at home, except at home he skips the snuff (kind of a deep woods campout thing) and substitutes the morning paper for one of the girlie magazines he sometimes takes out to the shanty. And, when he camps out he more often than not cooks up an evening meal so spicy that it will take layers of skin off your tongue, making the morning trips to the shanty pretty dicey for one and all. As it turned out, he had outdone himself the previous evening and cooked up a bowl of jalapena and cayenne pepper laced chili that would have made Wick Fowler cry, and had laughed heartily at Leslie and myself when we tried to down a few bowls of the devils stew! Well folks, sometimes what goes comes around, or perhaps better put, it all evens out in the end.

Surely enough, the next morning, at hour when only Roosters were supposed to be up, Jeff, showing no mercy at all for our hangovers, as usual, loudly got up and banged enough things around while making coffee that it woke us up. Resigned to the inevitable, Les and I staggered out of our sleeping bags, grabbed a handful of Advils and our morning wake up drinks - coffee for me and Coke for Les, and tried to keep our eyes from opening too much so we wouldn't bleed to death. And then we shuffled over to the campfire and began to poke around in the coals and rekindle the fire to ward off the morning chill. Meanwhile, cousin Jeff was rumaging thorugh the cabin getting ready to prepare breakfast and finishing off his second cup of coffee and snuff. All of a sudden he came out of the cabin door moving quickly, saying "Gotta go, gotta go! I feel a good one coming!" and he grabbed a roll of toilet paper off the supply shelf as he rounded the corner of the cabin and made haste towards the outhouse, red long johns flapping along the way. About halfway to the outhouse, he tukrned his head back towards the cabin and gave us a final comment, "Boy howdee, I sure don't look forward to this after the chili and jalapenas last night". I think the word jalapena must have penetrated the fog of both Les and myself at the same time, because we looked at each other, looked back at the shelf where the roll of jalapena juice soaked toilet paper had been, and the looked back at each other and Leslie almost spewed his mouthful of Coke and I clamped my hand over my mouth to keep from laughing out loud.

Soon, all was quiet after Jeff entered and Les and I looked at each other with big smiles, barely contained snickers and wide eyes. For awhile, nothing happened, and we began to wonder . . . but some things just take a while to work themselves out, and with Jeff they usually take longer than with others. All of a sudden we heard an "OW!" and then another "OW", and then we heard "OH GOD!" "OH LORD THAT BURNS" "YEEOOOOOOOOOOOOOW" and some other sounds that I'm not sure how to spell, but whatever they were, they ended Les's efforts to hold his Coke in his mouth as he spewed coke ou onto the fire, making it sizzle and smoke. It was almost enough to make me feel sorry for the him. Almost, but I was too busy laughing.

Finally, after the noise abated to mere moans and groans, Jeff emerged from the toilet, beads of sweat all over his face, and he began making an awkward, bowlegged limp back towards the cabin and campfire. With one arm and hand wiping the sweat off his brow and the other one pulling the seat of his longjohns back and forth and fanning his fanny mightily, he said "Man, oh man, that was about the roughest time I've ever had in the crapper. I'm never gonna make my chili that hot again!" And to this day, he doesn't know the real story of the jalapena toilet paper.

(I hope you liked my story - if so, I have a few more.  )


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## diamondtim (Jun 10, 2005)

Would it be safe to say that Jeff got his in the end (pun fully intended).:clap:


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## TJN66 (Aug 29, 2004)

Oh my..that was flipping funny!


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## Morning Owl (Oct 13, 2005)

Ok this is not a hunting story but none the less itâs funny. When I was in high school I used to run cattle for one of the local ranchers. I was the only girl in the bunch and one of the guys (Shorty) did not think a girl had any business out there. He and I would fight like cats and dogs. He would do things like put a burr under my horseâs saddle so that when I got on the horse it would start bucking. 
One morning Iâm in my tent and I hear snickering out side by the camp fire. I get my boots on and crawl out of my tent and see all the guys sitting around the fire giggling like teenage girls. I walk over and before and can ask whatâs going on, they see me and completely loose it. Grabbing there sides, fall on the ground laughing. I looked at one of them and he points to Shortyâs tent with tears of laughter running down his face. Still not understanding I walk over to Shortyâs tent and hear in a low excited whispering âOwlâ¦..Owlâ¦.Oh god Iâm gonna dieâ¦.â I freaked out marched back to the fire pit picked up a poker and start heading for Shortyâs tent. Yelling the whole time âyou &*^% - ^%#@; youâre a dead man!â âget your *&^% - *&#@ out here or Iâll beat you to death were you layâ All I hear back is the same whisper âOwlâ only this time he says help.  I stick my head in his tent and heâs starring at me with eyes like saucer plates. He is terrified to the point he canât move and is having a hard time breathing. He say's ârattle snakeâ. I immediately know whatâs going on now, Shorty is horrified of snakes and would shoot them when ever he saw them. I on the other hand like snakes and would pick them up and move them off the trail if I saw them. He knew I was the only one out of the group that would come any were near a snake. So I yelled at some one to get my pillow & my coat out of my tent. I told some one else to saddle up 2 horses and told Shortyâs brother to get his behind off the mountain to the truck and radio for help. I put the pillow over Shortyâs face so that if it struck it wouldnât hit his face or worse his jugular. I rapped the coat around my hand and arm to protect them, by this point my heart is pounding, I like snakes but would never mess with a poisonous one. Slowly I unzipped Shortyâs sleeping bag. I carefully pulled the bag back and sound asleep on his chest was a 4.5 to 5 foot BULL SNAKE! I was relieved and mad at the same time. I reached down picked up the snake and took it out side the whole time telling Shorty what a complete moron he was. âYouâre an idiot, you scared every one here half to death over a stupid bull snake?â He was convinced I put the snake in his tent. I proceeded to tell him I liked snakes because they eat rodents and that I would never put a snake through the torture of being in his company. He was the imbecile that left his tent open and like I said they like rodents! :croc: 
He never did live that down. All it took was one of the guys to whisper âOwlâ¦.Owlâ¦â and every one (except Shorty) would bust out laughing.


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## Dquixote1217 (May 15, 2008)

One weekend about 20 or so years ago, (my God, has it been that long?) my cousin Jeff and I loaded up his son Jason, aged ten, and my son Sean aged eight, along with Jeff's black labrador retriever named Sam and off we went to four-wheel it through the marshy bottoms to camp out on Jeff's 43 acres of land that lies on both sides of the South Sulphur River. A few years later we built a cabin, but in those days our campsite consisted pretty much of tents, tarps and a wooden electrical cable spool that we used as a table.

Anyway, we arrived shortly before dark on a Friday evening and just got our tents set up before it was time to light our campfire and turn on a couple of Coleman lanterns. Somewhere not long after setting up the tents and about half-way through a bottle of Wild Turkey, Jeff decided to have a bit of fun with the boys, so he gathered them around the campfire and told them to be on the lookout for really evil creatures called "Tallywhacker Bush Bats" which were notoriously thick in the very woods where we were camping.

"Why are they called Tallywhacker Bush Bats?" asked Jason. Doing a wonderful job of keeping a straight face, Jeff answered, "because they hide in the bushes where you can't see them, and when you go to use the bathroom, they pounce on your tallywhacker and bite down on it with razor sharp fangs and then suck all the blood out of you." Now Jason and Sean both snickered and laughed when they heard this preposterous description, but when Jeff and I kept our faces more or less straight, they began to have second thoughts. "There's no such thing as a tallywhacker bush bat . . . . is there?" "Are you SURE?" "Have you ever seen any?"

Soon, we had them going. "What do they look like", they asked. "Well," Jeff answered, "they aren't really all that big, just about the size of a big squirrel, which makes it easier for them to hide in the bushes. But even though they aren't really big, they have long snouts, just big enough to swallow your whole tally whacker, and sharp teeth about 2 inches long that clamp down where you can't get loose while they suck the blood out of you.". At this point, they were true, saucer-eyed believers, although I think I almost blew the whole thing when I added, "most people are really scared of them, but there are some local guys that like to catch them and take their teeth out and make pets out of them for some reason." Somehow, Jeff managed to keep from choking on a big gulp of the Wild Turkey he had been in the process of swigging down and he quickly added, "the main thing is, boys, don't go where it's too dark, because they hate bright light and love to lurk in the dark until some poor unsuspecting guy comes along and pulls out his tallywhacker."

I don't think we ever had a brighter campfire than the one those boys kept adding wood to all night long! And I don't think that either one of them ventured more than 10-15 steps from the campfire to relieve themselves of all the cokes they drank. To make it worse, whenever one did go and the other wasn't looking or going at the same time, we tossed a few sticks out in the bushes to make them jump. And of course, half the time that Jeff and I had to heed nature's call, we rattled the brush and came scampering back, claiming breathlessly to have narrowly escaped a close call.

Finally, when all the hot dogs and chili had been eaten and the last of the Wild Turkey had finished off the last of Jeff's and my brain cells, we headed off to our tents, my son Sean clutching to my trouser leg and shining the flashlight to and fro at every imagined shadow and sound until we got in the tent. Nearby, Jeff and Jason were repeating pretty much the same ritual, and then I heard Jeff say, "Have you seen Sam, Jason? Oh crap, I hope he hasn't gone down to the river and gotten all muddy. SAM. SAAAAAAAAM. HERE SAM! Ah, there he comes, and he looks dry. Good dog, good dog, come on in the tent and keep us warm, boy."

For a few moments, there was silence. Then Jeff said, "Jason, did you crap in your pants? Sheweee, that smells horrible!" "No, Dad, it wasn't me, I promise" "Well I didn't do it, and it smells like pure sh__!" "Me either, Dad, it must be Sam", and then a few secons later, "Man, it's getting worse!" At that point, the flashlight came on in their tent, and Jeff commenced to cussing, "Sam you stupid blankety-blank dog, youâve got crap all over you!" "Look, Dad it's all on his jaws - he's been eating somebody's crap and it looks just like that chili you made". "Yeah, well it smells like sh__, and now it's all over our ---- sleeping bags! Who in the hell was the idiot that took a dump close to camp"? At this point my son Sean started snickering, and pointing to himself, and I, thinking about how close he had to have been to the campfire because of our stories of the Tally Whacker Bush Bats, started laughing. Then Sean started laughing, and soon Sean and I were both roaring with laughter, which didnât help Jeff or Jasonâs moods while they got up in the cold night air and tried to clean off their sleeping bags as best they could, all the time cussing and bitching in the direction of our tent.

Finally I just couldn't resist yelling back, "Hey, I can't help it if you have a sh__ eating dog!" And Sean added, "yeah, and don't let one of those bush bats get you while you're cleaning all the poop off!"


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## Homesteader at Heart (Aug 11, 2003)

Good one, dquixote. I laughed until I cried.


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## Homesteader at Heart (Aug 11, 2003)

I could just picture what was happening in the jalapeno story.


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## diamondtim (Jun 10, 2005)

Not in the class of dquixote's stories, but there was the time my hunting buddy tried to gore me with deer antlers.

We were getting the cabin ready for a work weekend and Stu and I were talking smart with one another. Stu decides to take down the small fork horn rack from a buck he shot the previous fall and put it up to his forehead to gore me. He got a glancing blow at me but also forgot that the two sharp corners from the skull cap were facing his forehead. When he gored me, those sharp corners dug into his forehead. We were both alternately crying in pain and laughing.:Bawling::rotfl:


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## TonyE (Aug 1, 2007)




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## gunsmithgirl (Sep 28, 2003)

We were up camping on our property this week and working to clear a spot for the foundation. We took our dog a 80lb pit bull, who is the laziest most worthless dog you ever saw. She laid still for so long Vultures started circling her and pretty soon we had 4 circling camp waiting on us to leave. After about 45 minutes of them circling, I had to make the dog move so I could pull the trailer around and they left. I thought that was pretty bad our dog is so lazy that the birds thought she was dead! So much for the killer pit bull.


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## alleyyooper (Apr 22, 2005)

My hunting partner doesn't believe in check list or any thing but trash bags to pack hunting stuff in.
The routine was I got out of work some time around 4:00AM drive to his house load his trash bags in my truck and he drove the 7 hours to my deer camp. 
We always got there when we both worked on the 14 the day before the opener. We would unload our gear then go for a stroll thru the woods and check out brush blind out and check to see if the beaver had made the deer use a different route than they had last year.
Finally it is time to fix our supper (dinner to you city people) make up our beds and set our hunting clothes out in the shed.
My partner turned a funny shade of red and said I have to go find a phone. I say what for its getting late? He said I have to tell the wife not to be setting the trash out tonight for tomorrows pick up. 
He had packed 3 bags of trash 7 hours from home and left his sleeping bag & pillow, hunting coat and pants, boots and socks with his long johns home for his wife to set out for the trash man.
I always take an extra sleeping bag so he got to use my extra one. He tried to hunt with just a couple extra shirts and a rain coat and work boots but he froze. We went into town that evening which does have a Dunhams sporting good store where he reoutfited himself.

Next year all his duds were packed in those clear tubs ya can buy.

 Al


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