tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-77260850900230257602024-03-12T17:58:08.710-07:00DeermanAndrew Hilberthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05038720536012743894noreply@blogger.comBlogger45125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7726085090023025760.post-37765831375608062002019-06-14T07:56:00.001-07:002019-06-14T07:56:17.726-07:00Deerman, Episode 18: Doe Boy<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-FGWLEbsPDEU/XQO0vGmpFBI/AAAAAAAAyhw/-KwkRCmfegw5_BA99u5mpsdeb7PTTJMugCLcBGAs/s1600/Deerman18.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1175" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-FGWLEbsPDEU/XQO0vGmpFBI/AAAAAAAAyhw/-KwkRCmfegw5_BA99u5mpsdeb7PTTJMugCLcBGAs/s400/Deerman18.jpg" width="293" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://deerman.s3.us-east-2.amazonaws.com/deerman+18_mixdown.mp3" style="text-align: start;">Deerman, Episode 18: Doe Boy</a></div>
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<br />Andrew Hilberthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05038720536012743894noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7726085090023025760.post-69008696801393797592019-06-11T12:46:00.001-07:002019-06-11T12:46:08.751-07:00Deerman, Episode 18 is live for patrons!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-kinIxbgF38M/WYB1xeGzmvI/AAAAAAAAeho/O2McPzZGIgsT8L4jMJAlNEmCmMoJIlKhACPcBGAYYCw/s1600/Deerman-Artwork.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1000" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-kinIxbgF38M/WYB1xeGzmvI/AAAAAAAAeho/O2McPzZGIgsT8L4jMJAlNEmCmMoJIlKhACPcBGAYYCw/s320/Deerman-Artwork.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
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<br />Andrew Hilberthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05038720536012743894noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7726085090023025760.post-40615526014027077712018-08-29T10:07:00.004-07:002018-08-29T10:23:00.099-07:00Deerman, Episode 17: The Sheriff vs. The UnholyHowdy, folks.<br />
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It's been a little while and for that, I apologize. Putting out a nonsensical serialized podcast every month can be a marathon to keep up with when you're juggling too many projects at once. I took a much needed break for the past month after the Cockroach Conservatory, Vol. 1 came out.<br />
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But here we are again.<br />
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This mp3 has no bells and whistles because it was read live for patrons on a YouTube livestream. <a href="http://patreon.com/ahilbert" target="_blank">You can get access to stuff like that by becoming a patron of the Cockroach Conservatory here. </a><br />
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<a href="https://s3.us-east-2.amazonaws.com/deerman/deerman+episode+17+-+8%3A29%3A18%2C+12.00+PM.mp3" target="_blank">Click here to listen</a><br />
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ei5k8nbNXWA/Wz5SxycaQdI/AAAAAAAAq_g/6UFxxY700Hs9fC7f1GbdjnS0S98x0qlPACPcBGAYYCw/s1600/deerman16.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="958" data-original-width="620" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ei5k8nbNXWA/Wz5SxycaQdI/AAAAAAAAq_g/6UFxxY700Hs9fC7f1GbdjnS0S98x0qlPACPcBGAYYCw/s320/deerman16.jpg" width="207" /></a></div>
Andrew Hilberthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05038720536012743894noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7726085090023025760.post-64310791590736755312018-07-05T10:21:00.002-07:002018-07-05T10:21:40.217-07:00Deerman, Episode 16: Good Cop, Party Cop, God CopDeerman, Episode 16 is live. Woooooo!<br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ei5k8nbNXWA/Wz5SxycaQdI/AAAAAAAAq_c/0RMjX21pcUAGJMPm7Y19LO0ZdMIBKzexwCK4BGAYYCw/s1600/deerman16.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ei5k8nbNXWA/Wz5SxycaQdI/AAAAAAAAq_c/0RMjX21pcUAGJMPm7Y19LO0ZdMIBKzexwCK4BGAYYCw/s400/deerman16.jpg" width="258" /></a><br />
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<a href="https://s3.us-east-2.amazonaws.com/deerman/Deerman-Episode+16.mp3" target="_blank">Click here to listen!</a><br />
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Andrew Hilberthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05038720536012743894noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7726085090023025760.post-48926461020016455602018-06-28T10:10:00.001-07:002018-06-28T10:10:14.740-07:00Deerman episode 16 is live for patrons!<a href="http://patreon.com/ahilbert" target="_blank">If you're a patron, head on over to the Cockroach Conservatory Patreon right now and get an early listen on the latest Deerman! Click here! </a><br />
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-5t0YiE2f3dA/WibYa4YhPeI/AAAAAAAAjtE/7Nz-tWQPJpoZbBIjHT_NDvGYxhcIR3V2QCPcBGAYYCw/s1600/Deerman%2Bgood%2Bcop%2Bparty%2Bcop.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1137" data-original-width="892" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-5t0YiE2f3dA/WibYa4YhPeI/AAAAAAAAjtE/7Nz-tWQPJpoZbBIjHT_NDvGYxhcIR3V2QCPcBGAYYCw/s320/Deerman%2Bgood%2Bcop%2Bparty%2Bcop.png" width="251" /></a></div>
<br />Andrew Hilberthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05038720536012743894noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7726085090023025760.post-13257040707463328882018-06-27T20:26:00.003-07:002018-06-27T20:26:27.914-07:00Sweeping up some dust!Hey, y'all!<br />
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I just wanted to take a moment to thank you so much for all your support for this weird little story. Deerman is in the process of joining the Cockroach Conservatory Podcast Universe and we are doing a little RSS feed cleanup. Things might look a little wonky on your end but we will no longer be using Podbean. If you subscribe via itunes or google or wherever else, everything should be fine. Like always, you will be able to find direct links here.<br />
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Now begins the arduous process of changing the links from the past to direct them to their new homes.<br />
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It will all be good but there will be a little bit of handwringing on my end.<br />
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Just wanted to check in and let you know!<br />
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You can subscribe through whatever podcatching program you use by using this link here: <a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/DeermanPodcast" target="_blank">http://feeds.feedburner.com/DeermanPodcast</a><br />
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<a href="http://deermanpodcast.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">If you want to catch up on Deerman during this process, use this site to get direct links. Just click here. </a><br />
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Thanks,<br />
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Andrew Hilbert<br />
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<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-q5GT-k96hJY/WzQ4o0cwN2I/AAAAAAAAqxI/XmSDjqgE6hIisVTw4EH-EOXGCcpFWA2gwCKgBGAs/s1600/20180622_161024.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="900" height="320" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-q5GT-k96hJY/WzQ4o0cwN2I/AAAAAAAAqxI/XmSDjqgE6hIisVTw4EH-EOXGCcpFWA2gwCKgBGAs/s320/20180622_161024.jpg" width="180" /></a></div>
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P.S. Jurassic World: Fallen Kingdom was the absolute worst movie I have ever seen. I do not contest that there are technically worse movies out there but I have never felt so angry at a movie in my life. I thought the first Jurassic World was so bad it couldn't be topped and surely the sequel would fix something. Boy, was I wrong. </div>
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Andrew Hilberthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05038720536012743894noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7726085090023025760.post-83523349570943885332018-05-30T09:40:00.002-07:002018-05-30T09:40:44.625-07:00Deerman, Episode 15: Deerman vs. the Fur RightDeerman, Episode 15 is here!<br />
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Thank you for your support. Remember to <a href="http://patreon.com/ahilbert" target="_blank">become a patron here</a> or buy a<a href="http://shop.spreadshirt.com/ahilbert3000" target="_blank"> t-shirt here.</a><br />
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<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-mWfpDcYYLUw/Wwbgl0FErYI/AAAAAAAAppk/5nQADl3TQPEyDGztnbGNQQMe0BsW2vLlACPcBGAYYCw/s1600/Deerman%2Bfurry.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1237" height="320" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-mWfpDcYYLUw/Wwbgl0FErYI/AAAAAAAAppk/5nQADl3TQPEyDGztnbGNQQMe0BsW2vLlACPcBGAYYCw/s320/Deerman%2Bfurry.jpg" width="247" /></a></div>
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<iframe data-link="https://www.podbean.com/media/player/fe5ar-924018?from=yiiadmin" data-name="pb-iframe-player" frameborder="0" height="100" scrolling="no" src="https://www.podbean.com/media/player/fe5ar-924018?from=yiiadmin" width="100%"></iframe>Andrew Hilberthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05038720536012743894noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7726085090023025760.post-34284928472889013922018-05-24T08:56:00.002-07:002018-05-24T08:57:05.347-07:00Episode 15 is live for patrons!<a href="https://www.patreon.com/ahilbert/posts" target="_blank">Click here to check out my Patreon page to get in on the early access action!</a><br />
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-mWfpDcYYLUw/Wwbgl0FErYI/AAAAAAAAppg/ng0jeAx-tTYIaaEL-1i73Eqjvm01ycpEwCLcBGAs/s1600/Deerman%2Bfurry.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1237" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-mWfpDcYYLUw/Wwbgl0FErYI/AAAAAAAAppg/ng0jeAx-tTYIaaEL-1i73Eqjvm01ycpEwCLcBGAs/s320/Deerman%2Bfurry.jpg" width="247" /></a></div>
<br />Andrew Hilberthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05038720536012743894noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7726085090023025760.post-69438431744244212122018-04-30T10:02:00.000-07:002018-04-30T10:02:14.609-07:00Deerman, Episode 14: Hot Dog TalkHere it is, folks! The new Deerman!<br />
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-BBfc5f8ycBE/WudLY6A__pI/AAAAAAAApFk/Q8G_rjPQ37o-JQAYfbxRE6jBYFbMmx3kACLcBGAs/s1600/andrew%2Bhot%2Bdog.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="637" data-original-width="478" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-BBfc5f8ycBE/WudLY6A__pI/AAAAAAAApFk/Q8G_rjPQ37o-JQAYfbxRE6jBYFbMmx3kACLcBGAs/s320/andrew%2Bhot%2Bdog.png" width="240" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://patreon.com/ahilbert" target="_blank">Support Deerman on Patreon HERE</a><br />
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I realize that I have been supremely lazy when it comes to uploading to YouTube. I'm going to fix that this month. The Deerman YouTube space will finally be up to date.<br />
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Share! Like! Comment! Donate! Don't hunt deer.Andrew Hilberthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05038720536012743894noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7726085090023025760.post-18906963649722167172018-04-26T06:08:00.001-07:002018-04-26T06:08:05.263-07:00Deerman, Episode 14 live for patrons!Holy guacamole! There's a new Deerman episode live for patrons!<br />
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<a href="https://www.patreon.com/ahilbert/posts" target="_blank">Click here!</a><br />
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-szHwP6GnWvI/WuHO9MN_MmI/AAAAAAAAo9s/p2DrjM__0gUyfukVA3Xw4Aw1yMD2ASIVACKgBGAs/s1600/20180425_210342.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="180" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-szHwP6GnWvI/WuHO9MN_MmI/AAAAAAAAo9s/p2DrjM__0gUyfukVA3Xw4Aw1yMD2ASIVACKgBGAs/s320/20180425_210342.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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I'm dog sitting. These two pups never stop playing. Good company. </div>
Andrew Hilberthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05038720536012743894noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7726085090023025760.post-21844709905989017982018-03-30T07:20:00.003-07:002018-03-30T07:20:43.355-07:00Deerman, Episode 13: DeerDad Easter Reunion Special <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-kt4-yNNvNFE/Wr5GX1hC73I/AAAAAAAAn-s/EAYx_et74TA9GWEGQdL082R8a6W5LTM6QCLcBGAs/s1600/deerman%2Beaster.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="818" data-original-width="512" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-kt4-yNNvNFE/Wr5GX1hC73I/AAAAAAAAn-s/EAYx_et74TA9GWEGQdL082R8a6W5LTM6QCLcBGAs/s320/deerman%2Beaster.png" width="200" /></a></div>
A strange man with breath smelling of tequila enters Father Daddy's Easter sermon. What does this man know? What does he have to say of the fabled Deerman? Is an Easter miracle on the horizon or are we all doomed to coloring eggs for the rest of our sad existence? Find out now!<br />
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<a href="http://patreon.com/ahilbert" target="_blank">Support Deerman on patreon here.</a><br />
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<a href="http://cockroachconservatory.com/" target="_blank">Check out the Cockroach Conservatory, a new genre magazine that focuses on weird genre. Horror, sci-fi, fantasy, bizarro all work but they have to be weird. Funny is good, too. Submit!</a>Andrew Hilberthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05038720536012743894noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7726085090023025760.post-48556282956425577612018-03-16T15:02:00.006-07:002018-03-16T15:02:42.676-07:00Deerman, Episode 12: The Furries of the Food Court <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Friends and enemies, allow me to introduce you the very latest chapter of Deerman! Consider supporting the project on <a href="http://patreon.com/ahilbert" target="_blank">Patreon</a> or buying a <a href="http://shop.spreadshirt.com/ahilbert3000" target="_blank">t-shirt here. </a></div>
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<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-qLiCYK_K2mo/Wqw81QyZXvI/AAAAAAAAncQ/s8zJ4bOl-gcND9OvRp4-kPxT4GLoyavRACLcBGAs/s1600/Deerman%2Bfurry.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1237" height="400" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-qLiCYK_K2mo/Wqw81QyZXvI/AAAAAAAAncQ/s8zJ4bOl-gcND9OvRp4-kPxT4GLoyavRACLcBGAs/s400/Deerman%2Bfurry.jpg" width="308" /></a></div>
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Deerman, Episode 12: The Furries of the Food Court </div>
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“All right,” Bolognanon said with a thread and needle hanging from his pursed lips. “You’re no longer burdened with a penis.” Bolognanon punched Warning a few times on the mound where his penis would have been. “You might still get aroused but I rerouted all hormonal secretions to come out of your anus. You won’t have to walk around like you’re carrying a snubnose pistol around in your pants anymore.”</div>
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“He doesn’t wear pants,” I said. </div>
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“Well, now you won’t get turned away from literally everywhere you go,” Bolognanon said as he discarded Warning’s former lower half. </div>
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I examined Warning. He was still giggly from the drugs. He was farting a lot. He had his regular human upper body and powerful tiger legs and tail.</div>
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“How you feeling, bud?”</div>
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“Meow,” Warning said as he nuzzled his head into his armpit and closed his eyes.</div>
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“He needs rest,” Bolognanon said. “You need a break, too. Go out into the world. Discover yourself.”</div>
<div style="font-size: 1rem; line-height: 1.5;">
Bolognanon was up to something but it didn’t matter. I did need a break. I tipped my antlers at Warning and Bolognanon and pranced on out of there. </div>
<div style="font-size: 1rem; line-height: 1.5;">
It’d been too long. I’d been roaming around with a naked man so long that I didn’t have any time to stop and think about just who I was anymore. I used to always say that having a job helped me cope with myself but the older I got, the job was just another way of avoiding myself. </div>
<div style="font-size: 1rem; line-height: 1.5;">
Who would hire a deer anyways? </div>
<div style="font-size: 1rem; line-height: 1.5;">
I was walking on my hind legs aimlessly. I went to the mall and peered through shop windows. Whole families holding hands and pointing at things they wanted or things they were saving for. Little kids throwing tantrums. Husbands and wives stood in pained silence. Nobody noticed me.</div>
<div style="font-size: 1rem; line-height: 1.5;">
Maybe that was my problem. </div>
<div style="font-size: 1rem; line-height: 1.5;">
For too long I thought people cared about me and that affected everything. Nobody cared. Everybody was too busy with their own lives spent wondering if anyone cared about them. It was a liberating feeling. I felt like rewarding myself with Hot Dog On A Stick.</div>
<div style="font-size: 1rem; line-height: 1.5;">
But what would Brenda think? I was packing on the pounds with beer right before… the accident. </div>
<div style="font-size: 1rem; line-height: 1.5;">
Brenda’s not around and besides, she wouldn’t want any of this buck. </div>
<div style="font-size: 1rem; line-height: 1.5;">
I shrugged and walked over to Hot Dog On A Stick. </div>
<div style="font-size: 1rem; line-height: 1.5;">
A young man, face full of acne and a mouthful of braces smiled. I swear I thought his skin was going to crack as his lips slimed across his braces. </div>
<div style="font-size: 1rem; line-height: 1.5;">
“How can I help you, sir? Nice costume. Where’d you get it?”</div>
<div style="font-size: 1rem; line-height: 1.5;">
“Uh…” I fumbled around with my hooves and remembered that I didn’t have any money. “I… uh… I made this costume. In fact, I forgot my money in my other pants. Any chance you could slide me a corn dog?”</div>
<div style="font-size: 1rem; line-height: 1.5;">
“Don’t your friends have money?”</div>
<div style="font-size: 1rem; line-height: 1.5;">
Friends? </div>
<div style="font-size: 1rem; line-height: 1.5;">
The teenager pointed to about ten people dressed in ornate costumes of foxes, bears, cats… the entire animal kingdom! They were beautiful.</div>
<div style="font-size: 1rem; line-height: 1.5;">
“Yeah, your friends! The furries! They come here all the time. Some of them like Chick Fil A more but Chick Fil A doesn’t sell an orange julius like we do!”</div>
<div style="font-size: 1rem; line-height: 1.5;">
“Let me go ask one of them.”</div>
<div style="font-size: 1rem; line-height: 1.5;">
That twerp thought I was human enough to wear a costume. Maybe being a deer wasn’t so bad. Maybe I had finally found my people. </div>
<div style="font-size: 1rem; line-height: 1.5;">
I cleared my throat and tapped the most colorful one on the shoulder. “Excuse me,” I said.</div>
<div style="font-size: 1rem; line-height: 1.5;">
“Hai! You are muy kawaii! Watashi wa Hirubaato-san!” Hirubaato-san got up and gave me a little curtsey. </div>
<div style="font-size: 1rem; line-height: 1.5;">
“You’re pretty realistic looking,” a man in a latex, black and gray cat suit said as he sniffed me. “And smelling.” </div>
<div style="font-size: 1rem; line-height: 1.5;">
“Hee-hee!” Hirubaato-san giggled into its fluffy hand-hooves. “So realistic! So magical! Are you otaku?”</div>
<div style="font-size: 1rem; line-height: 1.5;">
“What?” I asked. I was confused. “What language are you speaking?”</div>
<div style="font-size: 1rem; line-height: 1.5;">
“Hee-hee! Yipeee! I speak the language of everyday! I speak in rainbow and poetry! Forgive the haiku! Pikachu!” </div>
<div style="font-size: 1rem; line-height: 1.5;">
“Uh… okay. I was just wondering if I could borrow a few bucks for a hot dog.”</div>
<div style="font-size: 1rem; line-height: 1.5;">
They huddled for a bit, murmuring to themselves. I could make out a few words. Things like “Super Friend Club” and “destroy the enemy,” but aside from all that, I couldn’t understand a damn word between all the giggling.</div>
<div style="font-size: 1rem; line-height: 1.5;">
The man with the latex cat suit stood up. I presumed he was their leader.</div>
<div style="font-size: 1rem; line-height: 1.5;">
“Listen, guy, we’ll give you a few bucks for a corn dog but you must sit and eat it with us. You must tell tale of your life. And you must do it in song.”</div>
<div style="font-size: 1rem; line-height: 1.5;">
“What?” </div>
<div style="font-size: 1rem; line-height: 1.5;">
“Oh, baka! He’s just joking! Of course you can have some dinero!” Hirubaatu-san pulled out a pouch and threw me a twenty. </div>
<div style="font-size: 1rem; line-height: 1.5;">
I tried to catch it with my hooves but without fingers, I couldn’t grasp it. It fell to the floor. Latex cat suit guy grabbed it for me. </div>
<div style="font-size: 1rem; line-height: 1.5;">
“My name is Xenith,” he said. “I’m the leader of this crew. I’ll accompany you to Hot Dog On A Stick.”</div>
<div style="font-size: 1rem; line-height: 1.5;">
“Thanks,” I said. </div>
<div style="font-size: 1rem; line-height: 1.5;">
“We have a little meeting down at Steampunk Saloon in the King William’s district. A few fuddy-duds come by and try to break up our meetings. They say we’re freaks. We need a guy like you to be our muscle,” Xenith said as I ordered. </div>
<div style="font-size: 1rem; line-height: 1.5;">
“Okay,” I said.</div>
<div style="font-size: 1rem; line-height: 1.5;">
“I mean, just look at us. We’re a group of people so in love with nature’s aesthetic that we pursue the ultranature.”</div>
<div style="font-size: 1rem; line-height: 1.5;">
“Ultranature?”</div>
<div style="font-size: 1rem; line-height: 1.5;">
“We’re trying to get back to animism through costume,” Xenith said. “We worship the soil.”</div>
<div style="font-size: 1rem; line-height: 1.5;">
“Oh,” I said, taking bites of my hot dog on a stick. “I get it.” But I didn’t get it. Maybe I hadn’t found my people. </div>
<div style="font-size: 1rem; line-height: 1.5;">
“You’ve heard of the deer crime running rampant around town, have you not?” </div>
<div style="font-size: 1rem; line-height: 1.5;">
“Uh huh,” I said.</div>
<div style="font-size: 1rem; line-height: 1.5;">
“I figured that’s what spurred on your costume. It looks so realistic that I’m sure you’d be able to teach us some stitching tricks. But anyways, the time of the deer has come. No longer will it be hunted. It will be worshipped for it will consume us in a fire of glory.” </div>
<div style="font-size: 1rem; line-height: 1.5;">
“The deer crime,” I said. The hot dog was still too hot but I was impatient and bit too soon. “The deer crime is me.”</div>
<div style="font-size: 1rem; line-height: 1.5;">
“Ha! Ha!” Xenith slapped me on the back. “You crack me up. Often we become one with our costumes but it is blasphemy for us to claim to be that of which we seek to be. We are merely apostles of the nobler creatures.” </div>
<div style="font-size: 1rem; line-height: 1.5;">
“Oh.”</div>
<div style="font-size: 1rem; line-height: 1.5;">
“There’s just one rule we live by,” Xenith whispered. “No outsiders!”</div>
<div style="font-size: 1rem; line-height: 1.5;">
Xenith pushed me into the furry congregation. The sound of the laughter was demonic, intoxicating, horrifying. </div>
<div style="font-size: 1rem; line-height: 1.5;">
“You must get tickle-jumped to join our group, silly!” Hirubaatu started to tickle me. </div>
<div style="font-size: 1rem; line-height: 1.5;">
But I lay there, frozen; unbothered by their tickling because deer cannot be tickled. I was baptized in their fire. </div>
<div style="font-size: 1rem; line-height: 1.5;">
“He does not laugh!” screamed some of them.</div>
<div style="font-size: 1rem; line-height: 1.5;">
“He must be the one long prophesied!” said some others.</div>
<div style="font-size: 1rem; line-height: 1.5;">
“Nonsense!” Xenith screamed and dug his fingers further into my armpits. </div>
<div style="font-size: 1rem; line-height: 1.5;">
It was time to pretend. I let out a laugh. Thus, I became one of them. </div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
Andrew Hilberthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05038720536012743894noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7726085090023025760.post-30905161833058898552018-03-08T15:04:00.001-08:002018-03-08T15:04:50.863-08:00Deerman Episode 12 is up for patrons !<a href="http://patreon.com/ahilbert" target="_blank">Become a patron today for early access to the latest episode of Deerman! The Food Court Furries! Yowzer! </a><br />
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Hey! The new Deerman episode is live for everyone! Check it out below!</div>
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For everyone that was at WHO KILLED ANDREW HILBERT? at Radio Coffee & Beer... thank you! It was a great show. J David Osborne, Rios de la Luz, Gabino Iglesias, Isaac Kirkman, Max Booth III, Robert Dean, Cheryl Couture, and Trey Hudson were phenomenal. I think we actually managed to make a reading fun. Check out the livestream:</div>
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art by Jack Arambula</div>
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<br />Andrew Hilberthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05038720536012743894noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7726085090023025760.post-69567361321041482732018-01-10T12:28:00.004-08:002018-01-10T12:28:43.581-08:00Deerman, Episode 10: Broken Mirrors is live for patrons!Head on over to Patreon and become a patron to get early access to the latest Deerman!<br />
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In other news! Zach Chapman, Miguel Villa, and I have started a new podcast called Books & Beer. We deep dive into different subgenres, read a shitload in a month, and get together for beers to talk about them. It's incredibly fun and I hope you'll check us out at <a href="http://booksbeer.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">our website here. </a>Andrew Hilberthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05038720536012743894noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7726085090023025760.post-80924769577082750852017-12-27T08:40:00.003-08:002017-12-27T08:40:54.273-08:00Deerman, Episode 9: Wanted SignsIt's time for some friggin' Deerman!<br />
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<a href="https://thejackparker.bandcamp.com/" target="_blank">Artwork by Jack Parker - Buy his music here</a></div>
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Join Deerman as he happens upon a seemingly benign family-friendly restaurant during the day. Listen as Deerman discovers what he truly is as he finds his hoofing in the world. </div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
Chapter Nine: Wanted Signs<o:p></o:p></div>
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The more me and the Mancat drove around aimlessly, wasting
our days, the more I noticed that old west style wanted signs were being posted
around all over the goddamn place. There was even one at Los Cazadores Musical,
a Chuck-E-Cheese rip off that sold Tex-Mex and Tecate.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Pull over,” I told Warning.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Meow.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I rolled my deer eyes. Fucking cats, man. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He parked in the handicap spot. It was something I was
always uncomfortable with but if anyone came up and gave us shit, I’d be
flabbergasted. And I don’t use that word lightly. I’m a fucking bipedal deer.
He’s a naked guy who wants to be a cat. If handicap we’re not, then what is? <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“We’re just going to walk in there casually, you know?” I
said.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Meow,” Warning said but his eyes betrayed an inner doubt. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Yeah,” I said, rubbing my hoof on my chin. “Maybe you
should stay in the car.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Warning nodded. It’s one thing to believe you’re a cat. It’s
another thing to walk into a family restaurant naked with a deer. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
There was no rush, though. When I got inside, there wasn’t
even a hostess to greet me. The place was damn near empty. There was trash
everywhere and a few old men smoking cigarettes staring at the stage. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Hey, bud,” an old man with no teeth said to me from behind
his pitcher of beer. “You here for the show?” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“The show?” I asked.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Yeah, El Cazador promised a big show today. A big, bad
show. He’s El Gran Cazador Blanco Con Pelo Amarillo. The great white hunter
with yellow hair. I figured you were in the show.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Oh, yeah. Yeah. I am.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Well,” the old man said, lighting a cigarette. “Don’t let
me stop you from doing your thing.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Isn’t this a family restaurant?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“On the weekends, yes. During the day, it’s a little bit
different.” He motioned his work-beaten hand to showcase the room. It was
filled with smoke and sparsely populated with people drinking straight from the
bottle. “During the day, my friend, we smoke and sing and dance with El Gran
Cazador Blanco Con Pelo Amarillo. He makes us laugh.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Yeah,” I said. I took a seat near the middle of the folding
chairs that were chaotically arranged throughout the restaurant. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
All the lights went out as I settled in. It’s hard sitting
on a tail. I still haven’t gotten used to it. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
A spotlight shone on the curtains where a short man in a
beige leisure suit came out. He looked shy.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Amigos!” he yelled, “Did I not promise you a grand show
today?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The crowd clapped but it sounded like the kind of clapping
that happens when you’re jerking off into the toilet. Sometimes your balls hit
the side of your leg. It’s not often, but it happens. That’s what it sounded
like. Unimpressive. Noteworthy only when comparing it to masturbating into a
toilet. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Agh,” El Gran Cazador Blanco Con Pelo Amarillo said,
“Amigos, that does not sound like my amigos!”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The crowd clapped a little bit more. Not much.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
El Gran Cazador Blanco Con Pelo Amarillo pulled out two
pistols. Then, he sang, “Mi pistola está en mis pantalones y está deseando una
cacería.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The crowd starting laughing. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“This dumb white guy thinks we like him,” an old man leaned
into me and said as he exhaled his cigarette smoke. “He comes in here and
thinks because he speaks Spanish, he’s one of us. Thinks because he married the
owner’s daughter that we like him. Bullshit. We know he’s only after the
restaurant when the old man dies. He wants to turn it into a condo with an
office for Senator Teodoro Luz at the ground floor. He thinks we like Luz
because his name ends in a z. We just come here to laugh at him.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I nodded.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Ouch!” the old man yelled. I turned and saw that my antler
had split his left nostril in half when I nodded.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Sorry,” I said.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I bet you’re Teodoro Luz under there, aren’t you?” The old
man started poking at me. It tickled but I couldn’t laugh anymore. Laughing was
a human thing. Deer don’t laugh. Deer get revenge. And I’ve been running around
in circles for too fucking long. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I stood up and knocked the chair in front of me down. I
started bucking like a race horse who hates the feeling of having a really
small guy sit on top of him and whip him into speed. I charged El Gran Cazador
Blanco Con Pelo Amarillo. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The crowd cheered.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Kill him! Kill him! Kill him!” they chanted. I felt their
hatred wash over me and I charged harder. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This man didn’t deserve the
passionate end of my hooves, the angry tips of my antlers, but I was bored with
running around. I was tired of being a deer. I was tired of hanging around with
some pervert that keeps up the charade of being a man with a cat brain even
after he admitted to me it was just a ruse to satisfy some weird sexual desire
that he couldn’t even find like-minded freaks on the internet. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Nobody asked me if I wanted to be a deer. If you ask me, I
would’ve been better off bleeding out on the highway. At least somebody would
find me and Brenda wouldn’t be sitting on the edge of her bed wondering where I
went; if I ran off with some California hussy or if I killed myself. If I was
killed by a serial killer who could overpower me, of all people. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Then it hit me like a gunshot to my knee; a gunshot to my
knee. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The crowd hushed.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I promised a show today, no?” El Gran Cazador Blanco Con
Pelo Amarillo yelled. “Now this muchacho was not a part of this show. But now
he is! And we’re all the better for it, no!?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I fell to the ground and stared up at him. His pants were
wet. He was scared. But he had weapons. I just had fucking antlers and a
burning passion for revenge. Friends, sometimes the latter is more than
gunpowder can ever provide. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“The show, amigos, must go on!” El Gran Cazador said. The
curtains went up. His animatronic band went into a steady rhythm with a
surprisingly complex emotional composition for a band made of robots. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He sang, “Cada vez que entro en un restaurante mexicano se
vuelve menos auténtico. Cada vez, cada vez.” He grabbed his dick and spun
around like a cheap Michael Jackson. A screen came crashing down from the
ceiling. On it, the first slid of a PowerPoint presentation was illuminated. It
read: <i>The Future of Los Cazadores
Musical.</i><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The crowd hushed. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
El Gran Cazador Blanco tugged at a rope that hung on center
stage. A cage with a young woman and her father came crashing down. It took out
the first row of chairs, killing one spectator. El Gran Cazador laughed.
“Nobody will miss him!” El Gran Cazador pranced towards me in his white cowboy
boots. He unbuckled his pants knowing I couldn’t lift myself off the ground. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But I had antlers. And I was getting a lot more familiar
with how to use them. I pummeled forward, impaling the little idiot and lifting
him off the floor. I shook my head and he flew off, hitting the wall. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
His urine
stained pants were now covered in blood. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The crowd stood and cheered.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“My husband!” the young lady clutched at her heart and reached for El Gran Cazador Blanco from
her cage. Her father was unconscious. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“That idiot never loved you!” said a voice from the crowd.
“He was just after your father’s property!”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But El Gran Cazador Blanco wasn’t finished. He pulled
himself off the floor and stumbled toward the cage. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“It’s true, my love. I’m sorry but money is more important
than authenticity. This is America.” He pointed his pistol, trembling, at the
father. “I made sure he willed this to me before he died. Now I’m speeding up
the process.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I dragged myself across the stage, bleeding and practically
useless. I poked at him with an antler but he must have been in some kind of
greedy trance. He didn’t even turn around. I stuck my antler into the stage and
used my weight to do a spinning kick on the floor. He fell flat on his ass,
fell face first into my antler. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Tell…” he said with his gasping last breaths, “Tell
everyone my name… mi nombre es Blake Gentle. I fought valiantly.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The crowd descended on me and helped me unstick myself from
the stage. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
One of them came up with one of the wanted posters.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“It’s him!” he said. I was scared but I was also in a lot of
pain and jail would probably fix me up or put me out of misery. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I rest my head on the stage and closed my eyes. I heard
sirens in the distance. The front door opened, bringing in unwanted sunlight. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Hey! Let’s get the fuck outta here! The cops are on their
way!” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It was Warning. Sliding in and talking like a real fucking
human to save our asses. He ran up to me, flopping around in the air, not a
care in the world. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“We’ll help,” the father in the cage said to Warning. A
group of men surrounded me and lifted me up, carrying me into the truck bed. I
was woozy. My eyes were tired. The sun blinded me.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“You saved my father’s business,” the young woman said. She
kissed me on the cheek. “You’re a hero,” she said as she peeled her late
husband’s face off of my antler. <o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I’m a hero. <o:p></o:p></div>
Andrew Hilberthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05038720536012743894noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7726085090023025760.post-65222886441090427202017-12-20T06:49:00.004-08:002017-12-20T06:49:37.077-08:00Deerman, Episode 9 is live for patrons!<a href="https://www.patreon.com/ahilbert/posts" target="_blank">Stop everything and become a patron. Clickity click click here. </a><div>
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Episode 9 is live. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Andrew Hilberthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05038720536012743894noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7726085090023025760.post-14414087029545829662017-12-05T10:09:00.003-08:002017-12-05T10:09:52.488-08:00Deerman, Episode 8: Good Cop, Party CopDeerman, Episode 8: Good Cop, Party Cop is live now for your enjoyment!<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Deerman, Episode 8: Good Cop, Party Cop</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
by Andrew Hilbert</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<br />
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<div style="background-color: white; color: #052d49; font-family: America, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 1.5; margin-bottom: 10px !important; margin-top: 10px !important; white-space: pre-line;">
“Calling all cars, calling all cars. We have a John Doe with his eyes crushed into his skull. Possibly a criminal investigation. Assailant on the loose. Assailant on the loose.”</div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #052d49; font-family: America, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 1.5; margin-bottom: 10px !important; margin-top: 10px !important; white-space: pre-line;">
“Bro,” Party Cop was in the backseat shotgunning a tallboy. “We gotta fuckin’ see that. Eyes crushed in. Wild.”</div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #052d49; font-family: America, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 1.5; margin-bottom: 10px !important; margin-top: 10px !important; white-space: pre-line;">
“We don’t need to answer every call especially when you just finished your fourth fucking beer.”</div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #052d49; font-family: America, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 1.5; margin-bottom: 10px !important; margin-top: 10px !important; white-space: pre-line;">
“You know who counts beers, man?”</div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #052d49; font-family: America, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 1.5; margin-bottom: 10px !important; margin-top: 10px !important; white-space: pre-line;">
“Who?” Good Cop asked, knowing the answer.</div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #052d49; font-family: America, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 1.5; margin-bottom: 10px !important; margin-top: 10px !important; white-space: pre-line;">
“Pussies. That’s who. Are you a fucking pussy?”</div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #052d49; font-family: America, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 1.5; margin-bottom: 10px !important; margin-top: 10px !important; white-space: pre-line;">
“Internal affairs, amigo. Look, I’m not here to judge you. I crack open a cold one here and there, too. But you’re Party Cop. And the eyes are focusing on you, man.”</div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #052d49; font-family: America, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 1.5; margin-bottom: 10px !important; margin-top: 10px !important; white-space: pre-line;">
“Yeah, yeah.” Party Cop lay his head down. “We should still go see it, though. Fucking eyes crushed in. I hope the guy survived. He’d probably want to crush a few lines.”</div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #052d49; font-family: America, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 1.5; margin-bottom: 10px !important; margin-top: 10px !important; white-space: pre-line;">
“Jesus Christ. We’ll go.”</div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #052d49; font-family: America, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 1.5; margin-bottom: 10px !important; margin-top: 10px !important; white-space: pre-line;">
If you’re not a cop, you probably think it’s weird for a cop to drive his partner around in the backseat like he was some homeless guy you just arrested for sacrificing his penis to the satellites in front of a room full of shocked Whataburger families. But it’s not weird. Every force has a good cop. And every force has a party cop. Good Cop drives. Party Cop rocks. </div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #052d49; font-family: America, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 1.5; margin-bottom: 10px !important; margin-top: 10px !important; white-space: pre-line;">
“Turn on the fucking siren, man. We’ll get there in no time.”</div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #052d49; font-family: America, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 1.5; margin-bottom: 10px !important; margin-top: 10px !important; white-space: pre-line;">
Good Cop rolled his eyes. “You know that every time I turn on my siren, I have to log it.”</div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #052d49; font-family: America, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 1.5; margin-bottom: 10px !important; margin-top: 10px !important; white-space: pre-line;">
“Dude, they said <em>calling all cars,</em> did they not? Now let’s get squirtin’.”</div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #052d49; font-family: America, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 1.5; margin-bottom: 10px !important; margin-top: 10px !important; white-space: pre-line;">
Good Cop knew Party Cop was right. Party Cop was usually right. It was just the way Party Cop went about being right that irked him. Being paired with Party Cop was punishment for calling foul on the department wide practice of strongly hinting at the need of free coffee at local coffee joints. </div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #052d49; font-family: America, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 1.5; margin-bottom: 10px !important; margin-top: 10px !important; white-space: pre-line;">
“You wouldn’t do that to Starbucks, would you?” he asked in defiance of his superiors. “No, you wouldn’t. Starbucks is a big corporation and would balk at the first sniff of intimidation. No, no, no. You squeeze the little guy and it’s not fair. You never ask for free coffee, you let them offer it. It’s a symbiotic relationship.”</div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #052d49; font-family: America, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 1.5; margin-bottom: 10px !important; margin-top: 10px !important; white-space: pre-line;">
He wasn’t popular with the force after a letter to the editor appeared in the San Antonio Express News about the very complaint he had with them.</div>
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He was a bleeding heart pussy. More concerned with counting beers than enjoying them. </div>
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A cold tall boy hit him in the head as he drove. </div>
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“Take one, bro. Take the edge off. I ain’t going to pull you over.”</div>
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Good Cop set it down on his passenger seat but said nothing.</div>
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“You know,” Party Cop said as he started rolling a joint in the backseat. “I always agreed with you about the coffee thing. If anything, we should have squeezed Starbucks for coffee. But I was never one for coffee. Get me some oolong tea and a spliff and my hangover is gone.”</div>
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Good Cop grit his teeth and white knuckled the wheel. He flipped on his siren. </div>
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“You need to enjoy life, man,” Party Cop said. He pulled out a comb from his front pocket and groomed his stache. </div>
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When they pulled up to the cul-de-sac where the victim was, nobody else had responded to the call. </div>
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“Shit,” Party Cop said, “I guess this one’s ours.”</div>
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Good Cop grabbed Party Cop by the collar and pulled Party Cop to him. “You motherfucker, I told you we should have let this one go. Now go get a fucking breath mint, you no good hippie.”</div>
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“Whatever, dad. I could solve this case with my eyes closed.”</div>
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“So do it.”</div>
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Party Cop lit his joint. </div>
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“Let me just get a closer look.” He bent down and scanned the face. “Fucking deer, man.”</div>
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“You’re saying a deer did this?”</div>
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“Most likely a buck but could’ve been a doe. Usually bucks get more aggressive when they’re in heat. This poor motherfucker must’ve just been in the way. Besides,” Party Cop took a deep hit off of his joint, “Check out that motherfucker over there.” Party Cop pointed to the ragged-dead deer carcass on the side of the road. “That’s probably the deer that did it.”</div>
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“Could it have been a two deer job?” Good Cop was scrawling notes as fast as he could. </div>
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“Maybe. Let me go grab that tick bag.”</div>
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“Should we keep it in place?” Good Cop asked.</div>
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“Keep it in place? Who the hell do you think is going to be out here asking you to keep some deer body in place? This isn’t the Kennedy assassination.” Party Cop got up and grabbed the deer by its hind legs. He dragged it over to Earl’s body. </div>
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“Sometimes,” Party Cop said, “A buck will kick with its hind legs so let’s just check the hoof size to the eye hole size.” </div>
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Party Cop grabbed the legs and put them to the eye holes. They were too big. </div>
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“These are too big. Let’s check the front ones.”</div>
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But they were too big, too. </div>
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“Well, fucking shit, man. This was probably a two deer operation.” Party Cop shook his head and cracked open another beer. </div>
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Good Cop wrote <em>two deer op</em> down and circled it five times like he’d ever forget it. </div>
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Just as Party Cop took his first sip, the Sherriff’s car rode up.</div>
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“Did you fuck with my crime scene?” the Sherriff barely took off his seatbelt before he started losing his mind. “Did you move that fucking deer? Are you trying to fix a scene?”</div>
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Party Cop smirked and took another sip. “We didn’t fuck with nothing, man.”</div>
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“What’d you say to me?”</div>
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“I said we didn’t fuck with nothing, man. We didn’t move that deer, man. That deer was there.”</div>
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The Sherriff’s nostrils started flaring like pussy lips on prom night. He stuck his ass out, bent over, and started sniffing.</div>
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“Then what the fuck is this trail of blood?”</div>
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“Now, Sherriff,” Party Cop said, “I ain’t no detective but I can’t get any answers out of either of these guys.” Party Cop grabbed a hoof and a hand and made them wave at the Sherriff. </div>
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“Get the fuck off my crime scene.”</div>
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“We were on our way out, anyway.” Party Cop smashed his can underneath his boot and got in the driver’s side of the car. “I’m driving, bitch,” he said to Good Cop.</div>
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“I’m sorry, sir,” Good Cop said with his eyes downcast as he passed by the Sherriff. He got into the passenger’s side.</div>
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For a while, they said nothing on the drive. Party Cop was too drunk and trying real hard to stay within the lines of the road and Good Cop was too embarrassed to open his mouth but the silence was broken.</div>
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“Wonder if Church Cop gots any leads on this two deer operation thing. What you think?” Party Cop asked with stunning articulation. </div>
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“What the fuck will Church Cop have?”</div>
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“Well, for fucking one, man… that God damn church is on the biggest property this side of the Winter White House, man. It’s all wooded in some areas. I bet there’s a den of deer somewhere around there. He probably has good grasp of what’s going on in the deer world. Because, man, if you know one thing it’s that you gotta protect your own kind. When I stared into that poor assholes eyeholes, I didn’t see shit but darkness, man. And I got a real sense that maybe the deer are starting to act up. Maybe they’re finally getting some sense in them.”</div>
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“Jesus fucking Christ. Some deer smashed some guy’s eyes down into his butt hole, what else can we do? It’s open and shut.”</div>
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“Then you tell me this, man.” Party Cop was steering with one hand on the wheel, the way every cool guy drives because they’ve got a tall boy in the other. He took a sip of the tall boy. “Then why’s the Sherriff out there busting my nuts over some fucking deer being moved?”</div>
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That was quite an observation for a drunk but it was probably an observation only a drunk could make.</div>
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“All right. It’s Sunday anyways. Church Cop will be directing traffic in and out of the parking lot over there. We could probably get a few lines out of him. But if it’s nothing I want you to promise me one thing.”</div>
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“What’s that, cowboy?”</div>
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“You let this whole thing go and we go back to writing tickets.”</div>
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“Man, you should’ve been a church cop. Church Cop has way more coke in his veins.”</div>
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Party Cop slammed the gas and turned on his sirens. He looked over at Good Cop while he ran red lights. “You gonna log this shit for me?”</div>
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When they got to the church, Church Cop was still directing people in. You couldn’t paint a better picture of boredom. With one gloved hand he made a come hither motion to every car pulling in while his other hand twirled a baton. In his mouth was a donut that he couldn’t bite because he had no free hands to save it with. </div>
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“Uhhhhhh, I’m looking for the Church of Satan,” Party Cop said as he rolled up. </div>
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“Yo! Party Cop! What the fuck is up! Can you turn off those sirens?”</div>
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“I would but I don’t know how.” </div>
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“That busy on the street these days?”</div>
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“You know it. Hey, do you know where I can bust up some teenagers for weed?”</div>
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“Wait an hour. Youth Group is always going to the woods to smoke after church.”</div>
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“Sick, bro. Speaking of woods, have you seen any deer coming in and out of here?”</div>
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Church Cop’s face went white. His voice became monotone.</div>
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“No. Why would you ask?”</div>
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“No reason, dude. Some deer fucked some guy up. We were just wondering if there was something bigger going on.”</div>
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“No. I know nothing about anything. Thank you. See you again.”</div>
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Party Cop shrugged. “Thanks anyway.” He drove off.</div>
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“Church Cop knows something,” Good Cop said. “Did you see the way he looked at you after you asked about the deer?”</div>
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“I can’t see much, man. I’m seeing double and blurry. I wasn’t even paying attention. Some coke would do the trick though.”</div>
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As they drove off, Church Cop reached for his secret walky-talky. It wasn’t a department issue. It was church issued. And it was in his back pocket, concealed to make it more secretive. </div>
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“Father Daddy, come in,” Church Cop said. “Some cops are sniffing around asking about deer.”</div>
Andrew Hilberthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05038720536012743894noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7726085090023025760.post-65357900097130894432017-11-29T15:49:00.001-08:002017-11-29T15:49:09.938-08:00Deerman, Episode 8 is live for patrons!<a href="http://patreon.com/ahilbert" target="_blank">Hey! Deerman, Episode 8 is live for patrons! Click here! Become a patron!</a><br />
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<br />Andrew Hilberthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05038720536012743894noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7726085090023025760.post-61523457617903416472017-11-16T21:52:00.002-08:002017-11-16T21:52:38.713-08:00Deerman T-Shirts<a href="http://shop.spreadshirt.com/ahilbert3000" target="_blank">Go get a Deerman t-shirt and show the world your love for Deerfolk</a>.<br />
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<br />Andrew Hilberthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05038720536012743894noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7726085090023025760.post-68759659142270174682017-11-15T08:31:00.001-08:002017-11-15T08:31:21.585-08:00Deerman, Episode 7: Deer CrimeI think I have invented a new genre with this series. DEER NOIR. Anyways, that was lame. Check out Deerman, Episode 7: Deer Crime.<br />
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<iframe data-link="https://www.podbean.com/media/player/ga2r8-7bf9f0?from=yiiadmin" data-name="pb-iframe-player" frameborder="0" height="100" scrolling="no" src="https://www.podbean.com/media/player/ga2r8-7bf9f0?from=yiiadmin" width="100%"></iframe>Andrew Hilberthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05038720536012743894noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7726085090023025760.post-59072257931240675292017-11-09T12:45:00.002-08:002017-11-09T12:45:27.997-08:00Deerman, Episode 7: Deer Crime is live for patrons!<a href="https://www.patreon.com/ahilbert/posts" target="_blank">Calling all patrons!</a><div>
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<a href="https://www.patreon.com/ahilbert/posts" target="_blank">Deerman, Episode 7 is now live for patrons!</a></div>
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<a href="https://www.patreon.com/ahilbert/posts" target="_blank">Click anywhere on this post and you'll be taken there! Yee haw!</a></div>
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Andrew Hilberthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05038720536012743894noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7726085090023025760.post-29044680159058688162017-10-31T11:40:00.001-07:002017-10-31T11:40:16.192-07:00Deerman, Episode 6: Trick Or TreatToday is a very special Deerman. It's our Halloween episode.<br />
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<a href="http://patreon.com/ahilbert" target="_blank">Please consider becoming a patron here!</a><br />
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<a href="http://amzn.to/2zlFcgK" target="_blank">Buy something on Amazon to help support Deerman. Why not Horrorstor by Grady Hendrix?</a><br />
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