This isn't as much a stupid stunt as it is a story similar to Eric's duck hunting tale.
My cousin was an offensive lineman at the time (6'4", 310). I'm 6'2" and probably weighed 245.
We were deer hunting down near Poth (dad's place). I took a doe right before dark. I field dressed her, loaded her, and was prepared to take off for San Antonio. Although this wasn't my first hunting rodeo and I could probably do it by feel, it's easy to get a little messy field dressing a deer in low light.
It turns out I was covered from the thighs down in deer blood with no change of clothes. No biggie--just let it dry and then we'll leave. As we get through downtown SA, I forgot to slow down from 70 to 60. Sure enough, the lights come on behind me.
It wasn't until this point I realized the seriousness of the situation. Here are two large men, speeding with guns in tow, and one is covered in blood. I couldn't see the officer's face when he walked up (because of the flashlight shining in the truck), but I have a pretty good idea of what it looked like.
There was a long pause, followed by "Uhh...I hope you were hunting."
"Yes sir, we were. There is a doe in the back of the truck if you'd like to verify." [You know you're a redneck when you've said that or something similar to a LEO].
"Are there any guns in the truck?"
"Yes sir." {Although I was really thinking, "No, genius, I chased it down, tackled it, and it just decided to give up."}
"Are they loaded?"
"No sir, not anymore. You can check if you'd like."
After more dialogue and some waiting, he walks back to the truck and asks me if I will speed anymore. No sir!! He then looks at my cousin, tells him to not let me field dress any more deer because I'm messy, and sends us on our way without so much as a warning.
I suppose he figured that two young guys could be up to a lot worse on a Friday night than deer hunting. We weren't drinking, of course, so that probably helped a little.
