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My grandfather used to go drinking with his buddies up in new hampshire every year, and hunt deer while they were out there. So one morning after leaving camp he has to lay some cable. So he takes off his vest and puts down his rifle and backs into the bushes and takes care of business. Later on back at the camp everybody is complaining about the stench, but they can't find where it was coming from. Later on when my grandfather goes to turn in he removes his vest and finds s**t all on the inside of it and plastered on the back of his shirt. He had stepped on a branch when he was giving birth and when he stood up and stepped foreward the branch flung crap all over his back..
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