There was once that time where I could run through the forest with the energy of a large bull elk. Trumpeting my success, my prowess, my life.
Full of strength and vigor. Breeding with beautiful and willing females. Taking and mounting as many as my lungs could endure.
Sated and full, there was the endless fields of food for as far as the horizon could be. Satisfying my thirst with the clearest cold pure water a mountain stream could offer.
Life was good until the day I was harvested by a hunter wearing an orange vest. My last view was to have my throat slit by the hunters knife to drain my blood.
My body was consumed by many, my bones discarded, my hide, head, and majestic rack of horns were changed to become as eternal as possible so the hunter could sit in his chair and remember the day of the wonderful hunt.
And while I no longer have life, I have body. My glass eyes glazed for eternity, my horns secure their place in the den of man.
For me now my best day is the day a servant vacuums the dust off of my hide while she hums a popular human song and thinks of her boyfriend fucking her as if he too, were a wild bull elk.
Robin Lipinski 