Home sweet home...

God, I miss Newfoundland sometimes.

I remember going home for X-mas one year and going to a buddies house looking for dope. He wasn't in his house but his truck was there so we knocked on the door to the garage. He came to the door all paranoid, wearing hip waders all covered in blood. He was like "there ain't no one else wit' ya is there?"

Nope.

So we go in the shed and he's cutting up a moose that he poached a few hours earlier. He quartered it in the woods and dragged it out piece by piece wrapped up in a tarp because he didn't want anyone to know about.

And he had dope...