Going Buckwild
The setting sun smiled as the roar from the pickup truck filled the forest. The splashes of mud on the wheels of the Ford pickup completed the serene scene, as a flat yodel echoed into the purple dusk.
"We gonna have ourselves a ball too-night!" Daria shouted from the driver's seat. She straightened out her Daisy Dukes, pulled her pigtails taut, and gripped the wheel with flying vigor. This was going to be one hell of a night. Local game fled, recognizing both the hum of the motor and the trademark stars and bars on the mudflap. The gunshots didn't give any hint of subtlety either. "You bag any?" she asked Jane, who was sitting shotgun both figuratively and literally.
"Naw, them critters always git 'way too fast b'fer I can blow them 'way."
"Or is it that them bullets ain't comin' out fast enough." She placed her hand firmly on the shaft of the gun. "Gimme that. You jus' switch places here wiff me." They crawled into each other's seats, as shots rang out. A rabbit fell dead off in the distance, downed by a rogue bullet. "One gon'," she cried with relish. "Remin' me to get the stir-fry up."
"Will do," she replied.
A smirk filled Daria's face. Just a few more kills and they'd be eating good for the week, if she kept her accuracy up, the month. This was much more fun than the bug zapper. She took another look at the ruddy, muddy trail at their backs. Much more fun.