Jones

This scene of terror is repeated all too often in elk country every season. Over the years, the hunters’ screams of anguish have rocked the timber.
—Don Laubach and Mark Henkel, Elk Talk

he gets the rest of the trophies for having avoided all the car crashes and jail time and alcoholism on his cultural dance card. Or maybe the reward for lucking through all that—meth too, he guesses—is having been married ten years now to Peta, who doesn’t have to put up with motorcycle parts soaking in the sink, with the drips of Wolf-brand chili he always leaves between the coffee table and the couch, with the tribal junk he always tries to sneak up onto the walls of their next house.

I scowled at Justin, who was bent over at the side, laughing. “Dude,” he said, holding his stomach as he sat up. “I’m definitely using this shit in a book.”

“Justin, I swear to God…”