I'll relate the adventures of the previous evening at some later part of the narrative, suffice it to say that it was an evening about 130 Congolese gentlemen will not soon forget.After hosing the hide off down the hall at the shared bath, we pulled on clothing most suitable for the trek we were about to begin. I donned the trusty khaki trews, a stout pair of safari boots, and a rather jaunty looking pith helmet, if I may say. Of course, I couldn't forget my trusty .450 Nitro Express, just in. I was overwhelmed. How was I going to take care of this thing? Whatever. I had to prove my friends wrong. Of course, they had been right about the blood stained floors and Mom’s death stench still lingering in the house, but that was mainly only an issue in the room she died in. The room she died in was, unfortunately, the master bedroom which I had to have as my bedroom since I was the master of the house now.My first few weeks in the house were fine…with the exception of the horrible. Besides, she’d smell Ranger long before we got close enough to see her.”“Bears eat horses!” yelped Brenda.“Not horses like Ranger,” said Bob. “Almost nothing will take on a stallion unless it’s starving, or wounded and enraged.”“What about Buttercup?” asked Brenda, still looking fearful.“Oh, I suppose she’d make a try for Buttercup, under the right circumstances,” said Bob even though he knew that was highly unlikely. He couldn’t resist needling a green horn. “But don’t worry. Buttercup would. I had been with her for several years and sex fell off of the radar after I moved North to be with her after college. The first couple of years living together were great. Although like all boyfriends, I always had my suspicions about her behavior when I wasn't around.She finished college before I did and as a result moved back North before I could join her. Also, there were random incidents after we moved in together. There was one night were she went out with her friend, and came home really.
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