Spoiled Deer  I've been deer hunting with my friends Stephen, Jose, and Franco Ramos, uncle Adam Redding, and a black man named Brian. We have taken two deer: a buck and a doe. We're at my home in Oak Valley. It's evening. The deer were shot earlier in the day. Jose shot the buck. The Ramos' don't gut the deer. I get mad at them for this because the venison will spoil, and the deer will be wasted. The Ramos' are very nonchalant about this, saying the meat will spoil or has spoiled, and can't be used, oh well. Adam and I feel differently. We say because it's cool outside the meat will be fine. The bacteria _____ need 45 degrees Fahrenheit to grow. It's cool: for sure less than 50 degrees, and probably less than 40. We argue for the use of the meat. I argue that they can't just shoot a deer and not use the meat: one just doesn't do that. It is Brian's birthday. It will be dusk soon: it's 6:15pm now. I hurry to get ready for the evening hunt. I usually like to have much more time than we have now. We go back to hunt. I argue with Stephen and Jose, saying that their logic is terrible, and is ignorant, narrow-minded, and even backwards. Stephen comments critically that they all worked around my schedule just to be here. Franco is driving out to the land, and we ride with. I talk with two men next to me. There is no sense in being on bad terms with members of your own hunting party. I ask them which stand they're sitting in. There is only an hour until dark. The road is covered with pieces of deer antlers. There are new, expensive homes along the road that have been built recently. I'm riding a bicycle down the road, with the two men on the back of it. We enter an affluent neighborhood. We go down a steep hill. The men may now be walking, and I'm riding or walking the bicycle. There are steps that lead down to a garage area, which is very spacious and neatly organized. We go past several rich people. In the garage there are several cars suspended off the floor about 10 feet, held in place hydraulically. I walk under and around them, to a large open shed or garage. The ceiling is about 50 feet high. There are many large metal axe head-like pieces that drop from ceiling to the floor. These are about seven feet long and two to three feet wide, with sharpened edges. There may be between 20 and 50 of them. They drop from the ceiling, crushing or slicing anything beneath them, and are then lifted back up. I try to avoid these, jumping from side to side, running and dodging them. On the other side of this garage-like building is a set of closed doors. I near this other side, and on the wall I see two large rectangular yellow panels. They are arranged vertically, about 20-30 feet long, and a couple feet wide, parallel to each other. I know that now is the main enemy, the full main enemy that I have not yet met. I do not see the main enemy, but know that the time has come.