James McKew

“Grandpa? Can you tell us the bedtime story of Little Red Riding Hood?”

“No. But I will tell ya the story of a crazy Frenchman who nearly wiped out all the deer in North America. Wanna hear that one?”

“No, I wan—”

“Hush up…I’m tellin’ the story.

It all started a long time ago in a land that smells like cow poop and baked bread.

In 1985, Pepe Marseille, a camouflage expert, was hired by a black ops wing of the Department of Fish and Game to stop the infestation of whitetail deer along the East Coast of the United States.

A testing station was set up inside a collapsing barn in central Pennsylvania. It was perfect for a top-secret test that would otherwise have come under protest from animal rights activists.

Pepe instructed his helpers to spread molasses-covered oats in fine streams outwards from the barn like the spokes of a bicycle wheel, reaching all the way to the county line.

“But why molasses?” The children asked.

“To lure those sweet-toothed deer to the barn.”

“Why did they want to do an experiment on deer?”

“Because the darn deer were out of control. All they thought about was poopin’ and breedin’ and munching on those wacky weeds that made them go crazy.”

“But that’s everyone in America!”

“Exactly,” said Grandpa. “Now hush up, or I’ll do an experiment on you!

Now where was I…oh yes…so anyways, the deer found themselves nibbling uncontrollably on the sweet molasses trail for miles and miles until they finally reached the barn and entered the doors twelve pounds heavier than when they started. It took a while, but nearly two-hundred deer crowded inside the dark space.

The doors were shut. The barn went completely black inside, and the experiment began.

A slide projector came on and shone a white rectangle, big as a movie screen on the wall.

Pepe Marseille stepped onto a small stage to address the deer. At ninety-five, Pepe was as skinny as a barbwire, with rounded shoulders and hair so white and thin that it was like a skeleton been dipped in wax.

“Velcome…Velcome…vild animals,” Pepe said through his heavy French accent. “Ve begin now to test.”  

The deer settled in. Each was given a sheet of paper and a small leather hoof-glove with a pencil sewn into the material. After all, it would be impossible for a deer to fill out the questionnaire without the help of opposable thumbs. One of Pepe’s helpers had assembled tables and chairs for the deer, but only the very oldest chose to sit at the tables rather than the hay floor.

Pepe said, “First slide, s’il vous plaȋt.”

The wall behind him went black for a second and came back with a solid shade of sky blue. The deer collectively gasped. One young deer stood and ran headlong into the wall, thinking it was the way out.

“Easy, my friend. Don’t commit injuries to the head, yes?”

Colors flashed quickly across the screen.

Pepe said, “Colors one…colors two…which danger colors is worst most? Colors three or colors four?

The deer filled out the questionnaires as directed, choosing the best and worst camo colors, providing insight into hiding humans in the woods, as no one had ever been able to get the deer to tell them before.

Pepe combined the patterns and colors and began flashing them on the screen with such dastardly speed, such wicked contrast, such diabolical patterns that the deer found themselves transfixed, staring without blinking or scratching an ear.

Pepe laughed and said to his helpers, “Now, you seed, yes?! I have hypnotized the deer by the spectacle. This is the greatest test of all time! From now on, the deer we will hypnotize with the camouflage and shoot them dead.”

Clapping and cheering started, but the deer’s attention remained fixed on the screen.

Pepe reached into a cooler full of champagne and began filling glasses. “Raise the toast everyone, to la victoire!”

As they were toasting their success, a helper backed into the table, knocking the hot slide projector onto the hay-covered floor and setting the place on fire.

The deer awoke from their hypnotic state and busted down the doors, escaping into the night.

Everything went up in a fireball: all the slides, all the questionnaires, everything.

Firemen doused the flames, but a fortune’s worth of research lay in an ash heap.”

“Then what happened, Grandpa?”

“Pepe went to prison for hypnotizing deer and forcing them to give up animal secrets.”

“Is that the whole story?”

“Funny you should ask,” Grandpa said. “In the midst of the fire, as everything burned, a single questionnaire lifted high above the flames and was carried on the thermals. The darn thing reached thirty thousand feet and was struck by a passing jet-airliner. The paper plastered to the nose of the jet and remained there all the way to Virginia.”

Grandpa shifted uneasily in his rocker. He looked around and lowered his voice. “Now, here’s the part of the story that’s speculation.”

“What’s speculation mean?”

“It means, this is how it really happened, but legally I’m protecting myself from getting dragged into court,” Grandpa said.

“The piece of paper slipped off the jet’s nose as it came in for a landing. The paper drifted down, out of the sky, and landed in the backyard of a local bow hunter. The hunter read the answers the deer gave to the camouflage patterns, and suddenly, a light bulb went on in his head.”

“Like in the cartoons?”

“Just like in the cartoons. He went on to create camo clothing that made grown men fork out billions of dollars on shirts and pants so they could sit in the woods where their wives couldn’t find them and get some peace and quiet for a change.”