Driving home this evening, I saw a deer run across the street a few hundred feet ahead of me and in spite of not seeing any other deer around, I figured it was best to slow down a whole lot. Lucky for me, I was right to assume there'd be more as another one leapt across the street not twenty feet in front of me as I got to where the first had crossed. If I hadn't assumed more were to follow, I would be both a deer killer and the proud owner of a truck with a smashed front end. Ignoring the ruining my truck part, I really don't much want to crash into a deer because then I'd be stuck with a fatally wounded deer in pain. I don't know exactly what I'd do in that situation but I did think about it a good deal after narrowly avoiding having to deal with it. In the end, I came to the conclusion that the correct approach would be to take the crowbar from my trunk and beat the deer to death; sure it's not pleasant but it's better than leaving it to suffer and die slowly. I don't much want to have to go and kill anything, even out of mercy; it saddened me enough that time I accidentally ran over a fox. Damnit, now I'm remembering that fox again. I'm such a softie, oh well, whatever, I just don't like killing things. I guess the moral of this story really is, where there's one deer, there's usually another.