Dig in, boys.

Big Bob stood grinning over the backyard gas grill holding two smoking plates piled high with rare horse meat.

Guess who’s coming to dinner?

Buck and Vic chuckled nervously.

Us?

How about Mr. Ed?

Big Bob laughed his big beer belly laugh. His dopey Irish Setter, Clancy, ran in circles, frenzied from the aroma of seared steak. When Big Bob tossed him a raw hunk of gristle the mutt went mad tearing into the flesh to unleash the crimson juices.

Vic got squeamish.

You’re kidding, right?

Never look a gift horse in the mouth, Big Bob said.

What’s that even mean?

I wasn’t sure what to do yesterday when you dropped off the horse, Big Bob said.

With you working at the landfill and all, I just thought you could dispose of it, Buck said.

Big Bob pointed a German sausage-sized forefinger at Buck’s nose.

I sat in the woods all morning yesterday and didn’t see so much as a buck, doe or fawn. They’re cute, those fawns, like them little veals they keep in cages to make ‘em tender. Fawn scallopini sounds mighty tasty. I was set to sell all the deer I harvested.

Sell to who?

A kid I know supervises a market. He says the store’s paying too much for beef. He can package all the deer meat I can deliver. His best customers are senior citizens who don’t know what day it is let alone what’s on the menu. Him and me will split the money he saves. With no deer I’m screwed.

You’re gonna sell him horse meat?

The kid’s not as smart as us.

People don’t eat horse meat, Vic said.

Europeans do.

They cook dogs in Chinese restaurants, too, Buck said.

Clancy growled.

Aw, I’m not talking about you, boy.

So what’s your pleasure, fellas? I got colt flank, stallion strips and mustang burgers.

Vic picked up a bun.

I’ll have a cheeseburger.

Make mine a strip, Buck said.

Big Bob threw a slab of horse meat on his own plate and added Worcestershire sauce and garlic salt.  As a self-professed prepper, survivalist, hunter-gatherer outdoorsman, Big Bob would eat anything.

Chewing and swallowing hard, Vic tried to focus.

Biting into his burger, Buck closed his eyes and stopped chewing mid-chomp.

People won’t know the difference, Big Bob said.

Yeah, they will, Vic said.

Big Bob seemed concerned.

We’re still taking our guns to the open America Set-US-Free protest rally, right?

Of course, of course, Buck said.

Relieved, Big Bob grinned.

Want me to pack us a couple of sandwiches?