a skilled hunter
lovessoccer
Published
11/02/2008
The big game hunter walked into the bar and bragged to everyone about his skills as a hunter. The man was undoubtedly a good shot and no one could dispute that. But then he said that they could blindfold him and he would recognize any animal's skin from its feel, and if he could locate the bullet hole he would even tell them what caliber rifle was used to shoot it.
This was a bit too much for the other customers, and soon a heated argument was going on. Then the hunter said that he was willing to prove it if they would put up the drinks, and the bet was on. They blindfolded him carefully and took him to his first animal skin. After feeling it for a few moments, he announced, "Springbok." Then he felt for the bullet hole and declared, "And shot with a .22 rifle."
The others could not believe it (he was right of course) and the argument was even hotter than before. When some started to suggest that he must have peeped, he said that he was prepared to do it again. He would put up all the drinks they had bought before against them buying another round for him. So they blindfolded him again, very thoroughly this time, and they brought a skin that someone happened to have in the trunk of his car. He took a bit longer this time and then said, "Kalahari Lion," and fingering the bullet hole, said, "and the rifle was a .308" and he was right again.
This of course was like throwing fat on the fire, and he had to prove his skills, over and over again, every time against a round of drinks. Finally he staggered home, bombed out of his mind, and went to sleep.
The next morning he got up and saw in the mirror that he had one hell of a shiner. So he said to his wife, "Listen I know I was drunk last night, but not too drunk to know that I did not fight anyone in that bar. So where did I get this black eye?"
And his wife replied angrily, "From me, of course!"
"But what did I do?" he asked.
She replied, "You got into bed and put your hand down inside my panties. Then you fiddled around a bit and announced in a loud triumphant tone, "Skunk, killed with an ax!"
This was a bit too much for the other customers, and soon a heated argument was going on. Then the hunter said that he was willing to prove it if they would put up the drinks, and the bet was on. They blindfolded him carefully and took him to his first animal skin. After feeling it for a few moments, he announced, "Springbok." Then he felt for the bullet hole and declared, "And shot with a .22 rifle."
The others could not believe it (he was right of course) and the argument was even hotter than before. When some started to suggest that he must have peeped, he said that he was prepared to do it again. He would put up all the drinks they had bought before against them buying another round for him. So they blindfolded him again, very thoroughly this time, and they brought a skin that someone happened to have in the trunk of his car. He took a bit longer this time and then said, "Kalahari Lion," and fingering the bullet hole, said, "and the rifle was a .308" and he was right again.
This of course was like throwing fat on the fire, and he had to prove his skills, over and over again, every time against a round of drinks. Finally he staggered home, bombed out of his mind, and went to sleep.
The next morning he got up and saw in the mirror that he had one hell of a shiner. So he said to his wife, "Listen I know I was drunk last night, but not too drunk to know that I did not fight anyone in that bar. So where did I get this black eye?"
And his wife replied angrily, "From me, of course!"
"But what did I do?" he asked.
She replied, "You got into bed and put your hand down inside my panties. Then you fiddled around a bit and announced in a loud triumphant tone, "Skunk, killed with an ax!"
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