Reconstructing a Crime Scene

It was a gorgeous Thursday afternoon. The men were in the family room watching the special Thanksgiving Day football game. The Chicago Bears were playing against the Minnesota Vikings. Norton McCarthy and his brother-in-law, Simon Fletcher, were wagering as to whom had the better offense. From looking at the score, you would have to agree with Norton; the Vikings--deep in Bear's territory--were winning, 24-7, late in the fourth quarter. As the Vikings scored yet another touchdown, it all but settled their bets.

The time clock finally ticked down to zero; the Bears had lost by twenty-eight points. Simon got up, and quickly flipped the channel until he came across an old Clint Eastwood movie: The Good, the Bad, the Ugly. He sat back down with a grim look on his face.

"Those sons-of-bitches," Simon uttered. He was heartbroken and disappointed to see the Bears take such a serious butt whipping. He was especially embarrassed that he had to sit through this massacre in the company of his brother-in-law.

"Now, calm down son. It was only a game. Let's enjoy the holiday festivities," Simon's father advised.

Norton observed the collection of moose heads and gun racks hanging along the walls. He picked-up one of the hunting magazines that were lying on the coffee table, and flips through a couple of pages. Then, he stops and studies a page for a few seconds. Simon gave a snide glance from the corner of eyes while he continued listening to the rampage of gunfire on the television. "Hey Simon, check out that beauty." He opens the magazine in full length to show Simon. "Ah, now why on earth would anyone want to kill one of God's sweet innocent creations," Norton lashed.

Simon looked; it was a beautiful white rabbit hanging from a rope on the back of a 4x4 flatbed. "Dawn, I would have loved to shoot that sucker. I haven't caught one all year," Simon answered.
"Simon," Norton passionately responds, "look into the eyes of this creature and tell it that you will not have any remorse for killing them."

Simon snatches the magazine and looks directly into the eyes of the rabbit and uttered, "You lucky son-of-a-bitch, you better be glad he got to you before I did. I for certain would have gotten you and your mama," Simon taunts as he releases a huge laughter, and tosses the magazine back at Norton.

"You should be ashamed of yourself for saying that," Norton responded. "I for one do not see how you, and your beer-guzzling buddy, can label killing this sweet innocent animals as a recreational sport. If I had things my way, I would permanently ban this so-called idiotic "sport." I personally think hunting should be outlawed until wildlife develops the ability to shoot back. If you want to hunt something, pick with someone your own size."

Upon hearing this, Simon's inside boiled. Deep down he never fully accepted Norton as part of the family. He always thought Norton was soft: not a real man. The two were from completely different worlds. Simon was a blue-collar worker, loved the outdoors, hunting, fishing, gambling, and mostly drinking. While, Norton was into classical music and the lively arts, and made his living as a freelance writer. All of the emotions Simon felt against Norton quickly erupted.

"Why you stupid stuck-up son-of-a-bitch!" Simon retorted. "Who the hell are you to tell me what I can or can not hunt! I have a hunting license, certified by the state!" He pulls out his wallet. "Look right there! That's my name and this license grants me the right to slaughter sons-of-a-bitches just like that one! Not to mention, I belong to the National Riffle Association, and, we encourage hunting as a means of controlling overpopulation of these "sweet innocent creations of God!" These are my guns and I will use them for anything I dawn well please!"

The voices of both escalated to an astounding pitch. Simon's father tried to separate the two men. The wives of Norton and Simon, Sarah and Mary, hurried to the room so see what the shouting was about.
Sarah questions, "What are you two arguing about?"
"This argument is over, because, I'm about to through this sorry son-of-a-bitch out!" Simon shouts.

"Simon, please control of your temper," Mary warns. "I don't want you to regret doing something, and then